“I hate Earl Grey with a passion. It's like drinking stale perfume...”

“I recall the words, the faces, the stale perfume and the pungent odor that filled the room..”

“It went on. Each lie I told required another to thicken the paste over the previous. It was useless, like when I learned to crochet and made a long string of loops. Being useless builds character, Miss Paulsen had said. Perhaps she was home now, drinking a weak Earl Grey from last night’s tea bag, massaging her taffied scalp.”

“I did not and do not want my life tied up in cloak-and-dagger bullshit, dead guys, or pissing contests with either the testosterone crowd in there or some prissy-assed Earl Grey-drinking, scone-munching major who isn't even my freaking boss. I don't know you and I don't give a rat's ass if you trust me.”

“I fucking hate tomato juice! It’s like drinking red snot.”

“Clary raised her eyebrows at Jace. "You hate bergamot?"Jace had wandered over to the narrow bookshelf and was examining its contents. "You have a problem with that?""You may be the only guy my age I've ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it's in Earl Grey tea.""Yes, well," Jace said, with a supercilious look, "I'm not like other guys. Besides," he added, flipping a book off the shelf, "at the Institute we have to take classes in basic medicinal uses for plants. It's required.""I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners.”