“It’s like a cotillion, this partners business, except with killing.”
“So, exactly like a cotillion,” said Simon.”

“Well, you know, your mom gets like this sometimes," Simon said. "Like when she breathes in or out.”

“There were impressive stone paths and benches and even a statue of an angel that gave Simon nervous fits, since he was a Doctor Who fan. The angel wasn’t weeping, exactly, but it looked too depressed for Simon’s liking.”

“Well, not in this case. He reached into the Inquisitor and he…" Clary shuddered. "There was a lot of blood."
"Like a special bonus for you," Jace said to Simon.
Simon ignored this.”

“I didn't know you were bringing the mundane." His blue eyes flicked uneasily over Simon.
"That's what I like about you people," said Simon. "You always make me feel so welcome.”

“Go to bed, Cammie,” my aunt ordered, sounding exactly like my mother.
“No,” I said, sounding exactly like my aunt.”

“I like to study failure, actually. My partner says, "I want to know where I'll die so I'll never go there." We want to see what has caused businesses to go bad. The biggest thing that kills them is complacency…. The danger would always be that you rest on your laurels.”

“Just like those who are incurably ill, the aged know everything about their dying except exactly when.”

“There’s no reason why women shouldn’t behave like rational beings,” said Simon stolidly.
Poirot said dryly:
“Quite frequently they do. That is even more upsetting!”

“Look. In all the years I've known him, there's always been exactly one place Simon wanted to be, and he's always fought like hell to make sure he got there and stayed there."
"Where's that?”