“There's a sickness in my soul, and I don't know, but I've been told it's incurable”

“His eyes softened. "But it doesn't change what we are to each other. It's like there's always been a piece of my soul missing, and it's inside you, Clary. I know I told you once that whether God exists or not, we're on our own. But when I'm with you, I'm not.”

“I've been in the revenge buisness for so long, now that it's over I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.”

“I want to know--or understand something. I've been sick my whole life. What is the point of being alive if I never get to live?”

“I don't really look at myself as the kind of person who craves attention, but I've never been to therapy so there's probably a lot of stuff about myself that I don't know.”

“A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done.”