Your Plans Are Suicidal. At Best.

Mundies Die Awfully Easily, Don't They?" "isabelle, You Know It's Bad Luck To Talk About Death In A Sickroom.

Your Friend's Poetry Is Terrible," He Said. Clary Blinked, Caught Momentarily Off Guard. "what?" "i Said His Poetry Was Terrible. It Sounds Like He Ate A Dictionary And Started Vomiting Up Words At Random.

Oh Dear," Said Jace..."i Hope That Wasn't Anything Important." "it Was A Sleeping Potion," She Said Angrily, Toeing The Vial With The Tip Of A Sneaker. "and Now It's Gone." "if Only Simon Were Here. He Could Bore You To Sleep.

By The Angel," Jace Said, Looking The Demon Up And Down. "i Knew Greater Demons Were Meant To Be Ugly, But No One Ever Warned Me About The Smell." Abbadon Opened Its Mouth And Hissed. Inside Its Mouth Were Two Rows Of Jagged Glass-sharp Teeth. "i'm Not Sure About This Wind And Howling Darkness Business," Jace Went On, "smells More Like Landfill To Me. You Sure You're Not From Staten Island?

And The Answer Is Yes. I Have Loved You. I Always Have, And I Always Will.