“She'd been impressed by his looks at first--those sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyes--but his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didn't like boys who looked as if they never got mad about anything. In Isabelle's world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.”

“Okay. I've got a good one." Simon stroked Isabelle's hair feeling her lashes flutter against his neck as she closed her eyes. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.”

“What did Isabelle want?" Jace asked.Alec hesitated. "Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us.""Sure," said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour."Alec looked puzzled. "Who's Madonna?""Who's the Queen of the Seelie Court?" said Clary."She is the Queen of Faerie," said Magnus. "Well, the local one, anyway."Jace put his head in his hands. "Tell Isabelle no.""But she thinks it's a good idea," Alec protested."Then tell her no twice.”

“Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us.""Sure," said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour."Alec looked puzzled. "Who's Madonna?""Who's the Queen of the Seelie Court?" said Clary."She is the Queen of Faerie," said Magnus. "Well, the local one, anyway."Jace put his head in his hands. "Tell Isabelle no.""But she thinks it's a good idea," Alec protested."Then tell her no twice."Alec frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?""Oh, just that some of Isabelle's ideas are world-beaters and some are total disasters. Remember that idea she had about using abandoned subway tunnels to get around under the city? Talk about giant rats—""Let's not," said Simon. "I'd rather not talk about rats at all, in fact.”

“There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water; Isabelle was sitting in it, staring out across the lake. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, waiting at the top of her tower for someone to ride up and rescue her. Not that traditional princess behavior was like Isabelle at all. Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.”

“Isabelle had been trained to wake up early every morning, rain or shine, and a slight hangover did nothing to prevent it from happening again. She sat up slowly and blinked down at Simon. She'd never spent and entire night in a bed with anyone else, unless you counted crawling into her parents bed when she was four and afraid of thunderstorms. She couldn't help staring at Simon as if he were some exotic species of animal. He lay on his back, his mouth slightly open, his hair in his eyes. Ordinary brown hair, ordinary brown eyes. His t-shirt was pulled up slightly. He wasn't muscular like a shadowhunter. He had a smooth flat stomach but no six-pack, and there was still a hint of softness to his face. What was it about him that fascinated her? He was plenty cute, but she had dated gorgeous faerie knights, sexy shadowhunters..."Isabelle," Simon said without opening his eyes. "Quit staring at me.”

“I should have warned her about your habit of never doing what you're told." Jace squinted at her. "Are those Isabelle's clothes? They look ridiculous on you." "I could point out that you burned my clothes." -Jace and Clary pg. 63”