But You Hate Poetry! Yes, But You

If I’d Just Listened—just Taken One Second To Listen—it Wouldn’t Have Happened

Oh, Its Big Enough,” He Said Patronizingly, “but Somehow I Was Expecting…you Know.” He Gestured With His Hands, Indicating Something Roughly The Size Of A House Cat. “it’s The Mortal Cup, Jace, Not The Mortal Toilet Bowl,” Said Isabelle. -jace & Isabelle, Pg.349-

Most Shadowhunters Get Their First Marks At Twelve. It Must Have Been In Your Blood.” “maybe. Although I Doubt Most Shadowhunters Get A Tattoo Of Donatello From The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles On Their Left Shoulder.” Jace Looked Baffled. “you Wanted A Turtle On Your Shoulder?” -jace & Clary, Pg. 314-

He Wants Her In His Bedroom. And Not In That Way — No Girl Has Ever Been In His Bedroom That Way. It Is His Private Space, His Sanctuary. But He Wants Clary There. He Wants Her To See Him, The Reality Of Him, Not The Image He Shows The World. He Wants To Lie Down On The Bed With Her And Have Her Curl Into Him. He Wants To Hold Her As She Breathes Softly Through The Night; To See Her As No One Else Sees Her: Vulnerable And Asleep. To See Her And To Be Seen.

There Might Not Be So Much Of A Difference Between The Side Of Light And The Side Of Dark As You Suppose. After All, Without The Dark, There Is Nothing For The Light To Burn Away.