If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Jace muttered.

Isabelle froze, her spoon poised dangerously. "What did you say?"

Jace edged toward the fridge. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat."

That's what I thought you said." Isabelle turned her attention to the soup.

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.

Isabelle looked at him thoughtfully. "Did you seriously jump thirty feet out of a Malachi Configuration? Did he, Alec?"
"He did," Alec confirmed. "I've never seen anything like it."
"I've never seen anything like this." Jace lifted a ten-inch dagger from the floor. One of Isabelle's pink brassiers was spread on the wickedly sharp tip. Isabelle snached it off, scowling.

Something snapped inside Maryse. “He is not a Herondale. He is a Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s my son.

Love is a contradiction.

You're raining on my parade."
"It's a pretty wet parade already, if you hadn't noticed.