You Must Behave As If Return Is

He Found Himself Wanting To Write Poetry About How Her Blue Eyes Were Like Starlight And Her Hair Like Night, Because "night" And "starlight" Rhymed, But He Had A Feeling The Poem Wouldn't Turn Out That Well.

To Be Beautiful You Had To Be Willowy And Tall. When You Were As Short As Clary Was, Just Over Five Feet, You Were Cute. Not Pretty Or Beautiful, But Cute.

What Is This?” He Went On Now, Spearing An Unfortunate Object On A Fork And Raising It To Eye Level. “this… This… Thing?” “a Parsnip?” Jem Suggested. “a Parsnip Planted In Satan’s Own Garden.” Said Will. He Glanced About. “i Don’t Suppose There’s A Dog I Could Feed It To.” “there Don’t Seem To Be Any Pets About,” Jem—who Loved All Animals, Even The Inglorious And Ill-tempered Church—observed. “probably All Poisoned By Parsnips,” Said Will.

Perhaps He's In Love With Agatha," She Said. "i Hope Not. I Intend To Marry Agatha Myself. She May Be A Thousand Years Old, But She Makes An Incomparable Jam Tart. Beauty Fades, But Cooking Is Eternal.

Anyway, He's [simon] Obviously Not Here. Go Back To What You Were Doing. What's The Point In Wasting A Perfectly Good Brick Wall When You Have Someone To Throw Against It, That's What I Always Say." And She [isabelle] Stalked Off, Back Toward The Bar. - City Of Fallen Angels Pg 188 Hardcover