You're Valentine's Son. I'm Sure You're The

He Always Lived In His Head. He Never Cared About How Things Were, Only How They Would Be, Someday, When He Had Everything He Wanted. When We Had Everything We Wanted.

Something Snapped Inside Maryse. “he Is Not A Herondale. He Is A Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s My Son.

My Rapier Wit Hides My Inner Pain.

She Had Taken Him For Granted, She Thought With Surprise And Shame, Watching The Flickering Candlelight. She Had Assumed His Kindness Was So Natural And So Innate, She Had Never Asked Herself Whether It Cost Him Any Effort. Any Effort To Stand Between Will And The World, Protecting Each Of Them From The Other. Any Effort To Accept The Loss Of His Family With Equanimity. Any Effort To Remain Cheerful And Calm In The Face Of His Own Dying.

All That Existed Was Jace; All She Felt, Hoped, Breathed, Wanted, And Saw Was Jace. Nothing Else Mattered.