“Demons feed on death and pain madness," Valentine said. "When I kill, it is because I must. You grew up in a falsely beautiful paradise surrounded by fragile glass walls, my daughter. Your mother created the world she wanted to live in and she brought you up in it, but she never told you it was an illusion. And all the time the demons waited with their weapons of blood and terror to smash the glass and pull you free of the lie.”

“My mother called the cops and demanded they remove me from the house. I was never sure if she had me removed because she was scared of me or mad that all her alcohol was in puddles mixed with glass and my blood. When the police and paramedics brought me into the sunlight, I saw. I saw the glass in my skin. The sun reveals what I really am, Livia. I hit a woman. My own mother. The glass and liquor seeped in, and I can’t get it out.”

“A women... A widow all alone to face the worst hell imagineable after the death of her husband, Stalked by evil at every corner. her home has been invaded by the demons from hell brought on by the death of her lover. She is not free. She may never be free. The torment goes on, the pain never ends, life as she's known it shall never be the same.”

“That’s my girl,” she said, her eyes holding a shared pain as she saw my confusion. “Al, where are you going to put her? Not in your room. She’d pull a line through you and kill you when you hog the blankets. I’ll take the waif in. I promise I’ll bring this one up properly.”

“Just take the weapon you hold in your hand and drive it through his heart," Valentine's voice was soft. "One simple motion. Nothing you haven't done before."Jace met his father's stare with a level gaze. "I saw Agramon," he said. "It had your face.""You saw Agramon?" The Soul-Sword glittered as Valentine moved toward his son. "And you lived?""I killed it.""You killed the Demon of Fear, but you won't kill a single vampire, not even at my order?"Jace stood watching Valentine without expression. "He's a vampire, that's true," he said. "But his name is Simon.”

“she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered;because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind thescreen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved tobecome butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or eversometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”