“They said her duck recipe and the Chinese music were so dramatic everything else sounded anemic.”

“For her, choices were simple; either there was an action she could take to improve the situation, in which case she took it, or there was not, and everything else said on the subject was so much meaningless noise.”

“Music is nothing else but wild sounds civilized into time and tune.”

“But Jace", Clary said. "Valentine taught him more than just fighting. He taught him languages, and how to play the piano""That was Jocelyn's influence." Sebastian said her name unwillingly, as if he hated the sound of it. "She thought Valentine ought to be able to talk about books, art, music...not just killing things. He passed that on to Jace."A wrought iron blue gate rose to their left. Sebastian ducked under it and beckoned Clary to follow him. She didn't have to duck but went after him, her hands stuffed into her pockets. "What about you?" she asked.He held up his hands. They were unmistakably her mother's hands - dexterous, long-fingered, meant for holding a brush or a pen. "I learned to play the instruments of war, " he said, "and paint in blood. I am not like Jace.”

“I'm tired of eating your family's lousy, tasteless recipes," Dad said."Tasteless recipes? My grandmother's rolling in her grave!""It's from indigestion.”

“Music took her somewhere, and I used to wonder where. I thought it was dumb, the way she lived for a collection of sounds, for someone else's words and notes.”