“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 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-”

“Oh, its big enough,” he said patronizingly, “but somehow I was expecting…you know.” He gestured with his hands, indicating something roughly the size of a house cat.“It’s the Mortal Cup, Jace, not the Mortal Toilet Bowl,” said Isabelle.-Jace & Isabelle, pg.349-”

“I think you'll find that one would be self-defeating." Jace said lightly shoving his feet into his boots. "We are bound, he and I. Cut him and I bleed.”

“It was like a bad movie except he didn’t actually twirl his mustache.”-Jace to Maryse about Valentine, pg.122-”

“Jace turned to look over his shoulder, the wind whipping his hair into tangles. "What are you thinking?" he called back to her."Just how different everything down there is now, you know, now that I can see.""Everything down there is exactly the same," he said. "You're the one that's different.”