“The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning; Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air.And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning. The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.”

“I sat up and pushed my wet hair out of eyes. Cal was standing a few feet away. I glared at him. "Awesome job with the saving.”

“You tried to drink the East River,"Magnus said, and Alec saw, as if for the first time, that Magnus's clothes were soaking wet too, sticking to his body like a dark second skin.”

“I sat up in bed. My T-shirt was soaking wet. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. And my room was sticky and humid.”

“Albion Park on a fierce spring morning. A mad March day of ice and fire. Thomas's feet beat a tattoo on the path. Every hair, every bristle on his chin stands on end. He is a small star-ship of blazing neurons- He is a librarian on his way to work, half-blind with sun and cold and memory. ”

“The person who doesn't scatter the morning dew will not comb grey hairs”