“It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one.”

“Alec shrugged "Look who's talking. 'Oh, I love her. Oh, she's my sister. Oh why, why, why--"
Jace threw a handful of dead leaves at Alec, making him splutter.
Isabelle was laughing. "You know he's right, Jace.”

“I get the feeling," Alec said, and smiled, "she hasn't forgiven me for betraying you, as she sees it."
"Good girl," said Jace with appreciation.
"I didn't betray you, idiot."
"It's the thought that counts.”

“By the time Alec came back into the training room, Jace was lying on the floor, envisioning lines of dancing girls in an effort to ignore the pain in his wrists. It wasn’t working.
~pg. 317~”

“Simon bristled. She wasn’t his Isabelle, not anymore. He wondered if she ever truly had been. Isabelle didn’t seem like the type of girl to belong to someone. It was one of the things he liked best about her.”

“What's the matter Jaimy? Ain't-cha never seen a girl before?
-Jacky Faber”

“You don't need to worry, though. He's not my type."
"I don't think I've ever heard a girl say that before," said Simon. "I thought Jace was the kind of guy who was everyone's type.”

“It was only recently that Isabelle had realized other girls weren’t just for envying, avoiding, or disliking.”

“Some guys look at you like they only want sex. Jace looks at you like you've had sex - it was great and now you're just friends. Drives girls crazy. Know what I mean?" Yes. Clary thought. "No." Clary said.”

“In the forties, to get a girl you had to be a GI or a jock. In the fifties, to get a girl you had to be Jewish. In the sixties, to get a girl you had to be black. In the seventies, to get a girl you've got to be a girl.”