“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.”

“She set you down on the floor and you started ranging around, picking things up, pulling my cats 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."-Magnus to Clary, pg.228-”

“Will you call me before Christmas?' she asks.Maybe.' I pull on my vest, wondering why I even came here in the first place.You've still got my number, don't you?' She reaches for a pad and begins to write it down.Yeah, Blair. I've got your number. I'll get in touch.'I button up my jeans and turn to leave.Clay?'Yeah, Blair.'If I don't see you before Christmas,' she stops. 'Have a good one.'I look at her a moment. 'Hey, you too.'She picks up the stuffed black cat and strokes its head.I step out the door and start to close it.Clay?' she whispers loudly.I stop but don't turn around.'Yeah?'Nothing.”

“If she were going to die, I'd already be screaming. I'm a Banshee. That's what we do.”

“Sure, okay, I'll pick up some cat litter. Anything else?""Watch your back, G." Then she hung up.Hero paused in her sobbing to look at me quizzically. "Why does your mom want cat litter? You guys don't even have a cat.""She uses it for..." I searched my brain madly, but all I could come up with was "teaching.""She uses cat litter to teach English?"I nodded. "She's kind of unconventional in her methods."Hero frowned. "But how does she use it?"The girl was relentless when she fixated on something. "Um, when their papers are really bad, she gives them a little bag of cat litter. It's her way of telling them their writing is crap." I laughed. "She's kooky.”

“Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on: 'And how do you know that you're mad?''To begin with,' said the Cat, 'a dog's not mad. You grant that?''I suppose so,' said Alice.'Well then,' the Cat went on, 'you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.''I call it purring, not growling,' said Alice.”