The Meek May Inherit The Earth, But

He (jace) Glanced Down At His Bound Hands. His Wrists And Shoulders Had Gone From Aching To Hard, Stabbing Pain, But He Didn’t Wince As The Inquisitor Regarded One Of The Blades, Named It Jophiel, And Plunged It Into The Polished Wooden Floorboards At Her Feet. He Waited, But Nothing Happened. “boom,” He Said Eventually. “was Something Supposed To Happen There?” ~pg.303~

Green-eyed Monsters,” Said Magnus, And Grinned. He Deposited Chairman Meow On The Ground, And The Cat Moved Over To Alec, And Rubbed Against His Leg. “the Chairman Likes You.” “is That Good?” “i Never Date Anyone My Cat Doesn’t Like,” Magnus Said Easily, And Stood Up. “so Let’s Say Friday Night?” A Great Wave Of Relief Came Over Alec. “really? You Want To Go Out With Me?” Magnus Shook His Head. “you Have To Stop Playing Hard To Get, Alexander. It Makes Things Difficult.” He Grinned.

What’s That Poem Again?” Will, Who Had Been Twirling His Empty Teacup Around His Fingers, Stood Up Straight And Declaimed: “each Spake Words Of High Disdain, And Insult To His Heart’s Best Brother—” “oh, By The Angel, Will, Do Be Quiet,” Said Charlotte, Standing Up. “i Must Go And Write A Letter To Aloysius Starkweather That Drips Remorse And Pleading. I Don’t Need You Distracting Me.” And, Gathering Up Her Skirts, She Hurried From The Room. “no Appreciation For The Arts,” Will Murmured, Setting His Teacup Down.

Sometimes, When Bridget Was In A Particularly Melodious Mood, Sophie Thought About Stalking Downstairs And Pushing Her Into The Oven Like The With In 'hansel And Gretel.

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