“Yes. He. Was. Just. Here. Spreading his goodwill and love all around Max’s entryway. It’s a wonder there aren’t cherubs flying around sprinkling rose petals and rainbows erupting through the windows, an aftermath of his delightful visit.”

“...it´s not all rose petals, rainbows and shit...”

“As flowerlets drooped and puckered in the night turn up to the returning sun and spread their petals wide on his new warmth and light-just so my wilted spirits rose again and such a heat of zeal surged through my veins that I was born anew.”

“A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks:“Aren’t you tired of waiting?”“Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.”

“He stepped back and threw his arms out."I'm always crazy around you Rose. Here, I'm going to write an impromptu poem for you."He tipped his head back and shouted to the sky:"Rose is in redBut never in blueSharp as a thornFights like one too.”

“The voice was Clary's. He would know it from anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he'd most loved during his life to carry him through the process of death. "Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!”