Who Ever Said The World Was Fair?

Jesus!" Luke Exclaimed. "actually, It's Just Me," Said Simon. "although I've Been Told The Resemblance Is Startling.

It Was Dark In The Alcove, So Dark That Jace Was Only An Outline Of Shadows And Gold. His Body Pinned Clary's To The Wall. His Hands Slid Down Along Her Body And Reached The End Of Her Dress, Drawing It Up Along Her Legs. "what Are You Doing?" She Whispered. "jace?" He Looked At Her. The Peculiar Light In The Club Turned His Eyes An Array Of Fractured Colors. His Smile Was Wicked. "you Can Tell Me To Stop Whenever You Want," He Said. "but You Won't.

Clary: What Are You Doing Here, Anyway? Jace: 'here' As In Your Bedroom Or 'here' As In The Great Spiritual Question Of Our Purpose Here On This Planet? If You're Asking Whether It's All Just A Cosmic Coincidence Or There's A Greater Metaethical Purpose To Life, Well, That's A Puzzler For The Ages. I Mean, Simple Ontological Reductionism Is Clearly A Fallacious Argument, But- Clary: I'm Going To Bed.

Anything?" She Laughed. "like What Kind Of Anything Did You Want?" "well, When I Was Five, I Wanted To Take A Bath In Spaghetti." -clary & Jace, Pg.310-

He Wanted To Make Her Laugh. He Wanted To Sit And Listen To Her Talk About Books Until His Ears Fell Off. But All These Were Things He Could Not Want, Because They Were Things He Could Not Have, And Wanting What You Could Not Have Led To Misery And Madness.