“He (Jace) glanced down at his bound hands. His wrists and shoulders had gone from aching to hard, stabbing pain, but he didn’t wince as the inquisitor regarded one of the blades, named it Jophiel, and plunged it into the polished wooden floorboards at her feet. He waited, but nothing happened.“Boom,” he said eventually. “Was something supposed to happen there?”~pg.303~”

“Pain lanced through his neck. He gasped and his eyes flew open; Simon was sitting up on him, staring down with wide eyes, his hand across his own mouth. Simon's wounds were gone, though fresh blood stained the front of his shirt. Jace could feel the pain of his bruised shoulders again, the slash across his wrist, his punctured throat. He could no longer hear his heart beating, but he knew it was slamming away inside his chest. Simon took his hand away from his mouth. The fangs were gone. "I could have killed you," he said. There was a sort of pleading in his voice. "I would have let you," said Jace.”

“He was going to make this happen. His feet and his head was set, and when he got that way, he always did what he said he was going to do. It was his pride. The only one he had.”

“He wont have to worry about you spilling his secrets.”“Yeah,” Jace said, “he‘s terrified I‘ll tell everyone that he‘s always really wanted to be a ballerina.”-Inquisitor & Jace about Valentine, pg.123-”

“He's got gas," Aaron explained, his voice muffled by the hand still over his face. "It happens when he eats stuff he's not supposed to." "It's vile," Camael said, glaring at the dog. "Something should be done so that it never happens again.”

“Nothing can happen to me that hasn’t gone through His hand first. If He wants to deliver me, He will. If He doesn’t, He has a good reason for it.”