“I was trying to make you jealous!" Simon screamed, right back. His hands were fisted at his sides. "You're so stupid, Clary. You're so stupid, can't you see anything?"She stared at him in bewilderment. What on earth did he mean? "Trying to make me jealous? Why would you try to do that?"She saw immediately that this was the worst thing she could have asked him."Because," he said, so bitterly that it shocked her, "I've been in love with you for ten years, so I thought it seemed like the time to find out whether you felt the same about me. Which, I guess you don't.”

“Simon?" she asked. "I have a stupid question.""What is it?""Did you sleep with Isabelle?"Simon made a choking sound. Clary swiveled slowly around to look at him."Are you okay?" she asked."I think so," he said, recovering his poise with apparent effort. "Are you serious?""Well, you were gone all night.”

“Maybe I could love you someday."If you ever do," he said, "come and let me know. You know where to find me."Her teeth were chattering harder. "I can't lose you, Simon. I can't."You never will. I'm not leaving you. But I'd rather have what we have, which is real and true and important, than have you pretend anything else. When I'm with you, I want to know I'm with the real you, the real Clary."She leaned her head against his, closing her eyes. He still felt like Simon, despite everything; still smelled like him, like his laundry soap. "Maybe I don't know who that is."But I do.”

“I don't hate you, Jace.""I don't hate you, either."She looked up at him, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that—""I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?""What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everythingabout how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on awall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded.”

“He could feel the strong, steady beat of Isabelle's heart.'I thought you were dead,' she went on. 'I saw you fall down, and--I thought you were dead.'Simon let her hold him, propping himself up on his hands. He realized that he was listing like a ship with a hole in its side, and tried not to move. He was afraid that if he did, he would fall over. 'I am dead.''I know,' Izzy snapped. I mean more dead than usual.”

“I should have guessed you were Jace's sister," he said. "You both have the same artistic talent."Clary paused, her foot on the lowest stair. She was taken aback. "Jace can draw?"Nah." When Alec smiled, his eyes lit like blue lamps and Clary could see what Magnus had found so captivating about him. "I was just kidding. He can't draw a straight line.”

“But that's not what you said when she walked into the room," said Simon quietly. "You said, 'Why didn't you ever tell me I had a brother?'""I know." Clary yanked a blade of grass out of the dirt, worrying it between her fingers. "I guess I can't help thinking that if I'd known the truth, I wouldn't have met Jace the way I did. I wouldn't have fallen in love with him."Simon was silent for a moment. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that before.""That I love him?" She laughed, but it sounded dreary even to her ears. "Seems useless to pretend like I don't, at this point. Maybe it doesn't matter. I probably won't ever see him again, anyway.""He'll come back.""Maybe.""He'll come back," Simon said again. "For you.”