“Names are illusions,” he growled. “Nonsensical labels seized upon by people to make them feel better about the intangibility of their puny existences. I am this. I am that,” he mocked. “I came from so and so. Ergo I am … whatever the blah-blah you want to claim. Bloody hell, spare me.”

“When two or three people come together in the name of Neverland then I will be there amidst them or if I am too busy or have a better offer, then I will send a proxy or you can just have the tantrum without me, whatever.” (King James Version: Gospel of St. Peter (of Pan)Verse: Blah Paragraph: Blah, blah”

“Alex the pilot heaved a sigh and said, “I am required by FAA regulations . . . blah blah . . . seat belt . . . blah . . .”

“He's still blabbing about how much he hates Mark Watts and now sucky he is at basketball (Who cares?),which I interpret as Blah,blah,kill me now, blah, blah, my life is over, blah, blah, blah.”

“You look so sexy wearing my cuffs," he growled."I'm gonna leave them on when I fuck you. Feel how hard I am? That's from thinking about every stroke, so hot and wet.”

“Jordan doesn't really care about the blood," Simon said now. "His whole thing is about me being comfortable with what I am. Get in touch with your inner vampire, blah, blah."Clary slid in next to him onto the bed and hugged a pillow. "Is your inner vampire different from your...outer vampire?""Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora. I'm fighting it."Clary smiled faintly. "So your inner vampire is Magnus?”