“Don't make it sound like that. Like some ordinary sort of grief. It's not like that. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite. Over. This is a fresh wound every day.”

“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite”

“It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's like a million little paper cuts every day.”

“I am sorry," Will said."No," Jem said... "Don't be ordinary like that. Don't say you're sorry.”

“And as for the Lightwoods," Simon said, "it's not that I like them that much. I mean, I like Isabelle, and I sort of like Alec and Jace, too. But there's this girl. And Jace is her brother."When Samuel replied, he sounded, for the first time genuinely amused. "Isn't there always a girl.”

“There are some kinds of wounds you can get, internal injuries. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you're bleeding to death slowly inside.”

“Clary, you're an artist, like your mother. That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy — just different. There's nothing wrong with being different.”