“My life is not packaged,Not tidy. There are leftover strands and jaggedEdges that cut even my friends.”

“My life and his were twisted into a single strand. Cut one, and you cut both. If he were gone, I would not be able to live through that. If I were gone, he wouldn't live through it, either.”

“Even on the darkest night, my friend, life will have its way.”

“...I pluck every day from my sweater or chair, red hairs...strands of significance, traces of you in my life ...”

“I would never date a girl who insisted that I cut you out of my life. It’s non-negotiable. You want a piece of all this fabulousness?” He gestured at himself. “Well, my best friend comes along with it. I wouldn’t cut you out of my life, Clary, any more than I would cut off my right hand and give it to someone as a Valentine’s Day gift.”“Gross,” said Clary. “Must you?”He grinned. “I must.”

“To find them all in one package...well, perhaps better not to dwell on his package in my fragile state.”