Goodness, Real Goodness, Has It's Own Sort

He Taught Me There's A Place On A Man's Back Where, If You Sink A Blade In, You Can Pierce His Heart And Sever His Spine, All At Once,' Sebastian Had Said. 'i Guess We Got The Same Birthday Present That Year, Big Brother,' Jace Thought. 'didn't We?

I'm All Right,' Jace Protested, But His Hand Gripped Alec's Sleeve Tightly. 'i Can Stand.' It Looks To Me Like You're Using A Wall To Prop You Up. That's Not My Definition Of "standing."' It's Leaning,' Jace Told Him. 'leaning Comes Right Before Standing.

But Clary Never Found Out What It Wasn't, Because There Was A Cry Of "jace!" And Alec Appeared, Breathless From Pushing His Way Through The Crowd To Get Them. His Dark Hair Was A Mess And There Was Blood On His Clothes, But His Eyes Were Bright With A Mixture Of Relief And Anger. He Grabbed Jace By The Front Of His Jacket. "what Happened To You?" Jace Looked Affronted. "what Happened To Me?" Alec Looked At Him, Not Lightly. "you Said You Were Going For A Walk! What Kind Of Walk Takes Six Hours?" "a Long One?" Jace Suggested.

Clary, You're An Artist, Like Your Mother. That Means You See The World In Ways That Other People Don't. It's Your Gift, To See The Beauty And The Horror In Ordinary Things. It Doesn't Make You Crazy — Just Different. There's Nothing Wrong With Being Different.

Clary Wondered How Many Boyfriends She'd Turned Into Rats By Accident. -clary To Isabelle, Pg.245-