I forgot that's what gets you all hot and bothered, Jace, girls killing things."
"I like anyone killing things, especially me." he said with a smile.

I get the feeling," Alec said, and smiled, "she hasn't forgiven me for betraying you, as she sees it."
"Good girl," said Jace with appreciation.
"I didn't betray you, idiot."
"It's the thought that counts.

Isabelle looked at him thoughtfully. "Did you seriously jump thirty feet out of a Malachi Configuration? Did he, Alec?"
"He did," Alec confirmed. "I've never seen anything like it."
"I've never seen anything like this." Jace lifted a ten-inch dagger from the floor. One of Isabelle's pink brassiers was spread on the wickedly sharp tip. Isabelle snached it off, scowling.

Sometimes when she looks at him that way he finds himself almost blushing; a feeling so strange he almost doesn’t recognize it. Jace Wayland doesn’t blush.

He understands why people hold hands: he’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying This is mine. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.

The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.