“Accepting favors from fiends was so against the rules. Like potato chips, you couldn't stop at just one, then you'd find yourself at Hell's front door trying to explain why your soul had a big brand on it that said “Property of Lucifer.”

“Murder is like potato chips: you can't stop with just one.”

“A vampire victim. I'd never seen a lone kill. They were like potato chips; once a vamp tasted them, he couldn't stop at just one.”

“Touching his cock was like eating chips; I couldn't stop after just one.”

“Reading one book is like eating one potato chip.”

“Rule number one of anime," Simon said. He sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans with a hole ripped in one knee. "Never screw with a blind monk.""I know," Clary said, taking a potato chip and dunking it into the can of dip balanced on the TV tray between them. "For some reason they're always way better fighters than monks who can see." She peered at the screen. "Are those guys dancing?""That's not dancing. They're trying to kill each other. This is the guy who's the mortal enemy of the other guy, remember? He killed his dad. Why would they be dancing?”