“Valkyrie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is most likely dead.” “Of course he’s dead. He’s a skeleton.”

“Magnus rolled onto his back and put his feet up on the arm of the sofa. “What do you care if Alec’s miserable?”“What do I care?” Jace said, so loudly that Chairman Meow rolled off the couch and landed on the floor. “Of course I care about Alec; he’s my best friend, my parabatai. And he’s unhappy. And so are you, by the look of things. Takeout containers everywhere, you haven’t done anything to fix up the place, your cat looks dead —““He’s not dead.”

“Oh, sure. Of course, they say now that we’ve got Freud and the motorcar, God is dead.” “He’s not dead; just very tired.”

“Ben is ten and he’s dead. But he’s not gone. Not for me.”

“He’s pale, bald, and bony. He looks like a skeleton. And that, my friend, is precisely why I keep him in my closet.”

“He’s winning.Something stirs inside me. That means I’m losing.I hate losing.The game isn’t over until you’re dead.”