“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.”

“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 unwrapped the blanket when she came in my door. You were inside it. She set you down on the floor and you started ranging around, picking things up, pulling my cat's tail—you screamed like a banshee when the cat scratched you, so I asked your mother if you were part banshee. She didn't laugh.”

“You’re alive," she whispered. "Really alive."With a slow wonderment he reached to touch her face. "I was in the dark," he said softly. "There was nothing there but shadows, and I was a shadow, and I knew that I was dead, and that it was over, all of it. And then I heard your voice. I heard you say my name, and it brought me back." "Not me." Clary’s throat tightened. "The Angel brought you back." "Because you asked him to." Silently he traced the outline of her face with his fingers, as if reassuring himself that she was real. "You could have had anything else in the world, and you asked for me." She smiled up at him. Filthy as he was, covered in blood and dirt, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. "But I don’t want anything else in the world.”

“I know what you said! My mother would never have belonged to something like that. Some kind of-some kind of hate group.""It wasn't-," Jace began, but Hodge cut him off."I doubt," he said slowly, as if the words pained him, "that she had much choice."Clary stared. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't she have had a choice?""Because," said Hodge, "she was Valentine's wife.”

“she glanced down and saw that a glove of blood covered her lower arm from the elbow to the wrist. The arm was throbbing, stiff, and painful. "Is this when you start tearing strips off your T-shirt to bind up my wound?" she joked. She hated the sight of blood, especially her own. "If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked." He dug into his pocket and brought out his stele. "It would have been a lot less painful.”

“I thought you hated demons. Now you use them like servants. The Ravener, the Drevak demons, Agramon-they‘re your employees. Guards, butler-personal chef, for all I know.”-Jace to Valentine, pg.260-”