Magnus Reached Out To Touch Alec, But

Simon!” The Voice Was Clary’s. He Would Know It Anywhere. He Wondered If His Mind Was Conjuring It Up Now, A Sense Memory Of What He’d Most Loved During Life To Carry Him Through The Process Of Death. “simon, You Stupid Idiot! I’m Over Here! At The Window!” Simon Jumped To His Feet. He Doubted His Mind Would Conjure That Up.

And When I Saw Him[my Father] Lying Dead In A Pool Of His Own Blood, I Knew Then That I Hadn't Stopped Believing In God. I'd Just Stopped Believing God Cared. There Might Be A God, Clary, And There Might Be Not. Either Way, We're On Our Own.

I'm Pure At Heart. It Repels The Dirt.

But You Hate Poetry! Yes, But You Make Me Want To Write It.

I Think I’m Better Than Everyone Else. An Opinion That Has Been Backed Up With Ample Evidence.