“Inside its crumbling walls the house is riddled with bullet holes, and in its garden only the crimson dahlias still hold their heads high. Jing is lying on a chaise longue [sic] playing with his bird.'I thought you were in prison.'He looks up, his eyes filled with hate and desire.'You are my prison.”

“Nik gripped his fork so tightly his knuckles turned white. His temper flared up like a beast inside him, clawing at the walls of its fleshy prison.”

“Once Incarceron became a dragon, and a Prisoner crawled into his lair. They made a wager. They would ask each other riddles, and the one who could not answer would lose. It it was the man, he would give his life. The Prison offered a secret way of Escape. But even as the man agreed, he felt its hidden laughter.They played for a year and a day. The lights stayed dark. The dead were not removed. Food was not provided. The Prison ignored the cries of its inmates.Sapphique was the man. He had one riddle left. He said, "What is the Key that unlocks the heart?"For a day Incarceron thought. For two days. For three. Then it said, "If I ever knew the answer, I have forgotten it."--Sapphique in the Tunnels of Madness”

“You are all in jail. Each alone, solitary, with a heap of what he owns. You live in prison, die in prison. It is all I can see in your eyes – the walls, the walls!”

“I shook my head, and his eyes traveled up my wall to the ceiling. I could almost see the wheels spinning inside his head. “What are you up to?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.“I’m trying to think of another bet.”

“I don't hate you, Jace.""I don't hate you, either."She looked up at him, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that—""I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?""What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everythingabout how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on awall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded.”