“I had to fight the urge to turn on him and level my sword at the shrunken black nugget of his heart.”

“Just then Patch ambled through the front door. I did a double take to make it was really him. I hadn't expected him to come. We'd never resolved our fight, and I'd pridefully refused to take the first step, forcing myself to lock my cell phone in a drawer every time I was tempted to call him and apologize, despite my increasing distress that he might never call either. My pride immediately turned to relief at the sight of him. I hated fighting. I hated not having him close. If he was ready to mend this, so was I.A smile flickered across my face at the sight of his costume; black jeans, black t-shirt, black face mask. The latter concealed all but his cool, assessing gaze."There's my date," I said. "Fashionably late.”

“Why, oh why, had Jace picked a fight with a pack of wolves? What had possessed him? Then again, it was Jace. He'd pick a fight with a Mack truck if the urge took him.-Clary, pg.40-”

“His mind scolded him for his stupidity and urged him to forget her but his heart had no justifications for its stand. It remained unmoved, its solidarity unaffected, its arrogance still holding.”

“I fight the urge to stand on my tip toes to reach his lips. Because my guess is that cramming my tongue down his throat right now, would be creepy”

“I fight the urge to enjoy anything too much in front of him, actually, and now that I’m aware of that fact, my brain gets hung up on why that is.”