But You Hate Poetry! Yes, But You

What About Isabelle?" Simon Asked. "where Is She?" The Humor, Such As It Was, Left Jace's Expression. "she Won't Come Out Of Her Room," He Said. "she Thinks That What Happened To Max Was Her Fault. She Won't Even Come To The Funeral." "have You Tried Talking To Her?" "no," Jace Said, "we've Been Punching Her Repeatedly In The Face Instead. Why, Do You Think That Won't Work?" "just Thought I'd Ask." Simon's Tone Was Mild.

You Know What I Am." The Words Breathed Out In An Auguished Whisper. "i'm Part Demon, Clary. Part Demon. You Understood That Much, Didn't You?" His Eyes Bored Into Her Like Drills. "you Saw What Valentine Was Trying To Do. He Used Demon Blood-used It On Me Before I Was Even Born. I'm Part Monster. Part Everthing I've Tried So Hard To Burn Out, To Destroy.

I Feel Like You Can Look Inside Me And See All The Places I Am Odd Or Unusual And Fit Your Heart Around Them, For You Are Odd And Unusual In Just The Same Way. We Are The Same.

His Eyes Shone When He Looked At Her, Green As Spring Grass. He Has Always Had Green Eyes, Said The Voice In Her Head. People Often Marvel At How Much Alike You Are, He And Your Mother And Yourself. His Name Is Jonathan And He Is Your Brother; He Has Always Protected You. Somewhere In The Back Of Clary’s Mind She Saw Black Eyes And Whip Marks, But She Didn’t Know Why. He’s Your Brother. He’s Your Brother, And He’s Always Taken Care Of You.

I Thought It'd Be Something Cooler, Like A Van With 'death To Demons' Painted On The Outside.