The corpse is too gentle,
With a touch, so parental,
I dare not refuse,
With a lot to lose,
I miss the ruse,
The songs, the blues,

Black for hunting through the night
For death and sorrow, the color’s white
Gold for a bride in her wedding gown,
And red to call enchantment down.

Excellent. I've been told I have a lovely, melodic reading voice." He flipped the book open to the front page, where the title was printed in ornate script. Across from it was a long dedication, the ink faded now and barely legible, though Clary could make out the signature: With hope at last, William Herondale.

Sed lex, dura lex

Maia pulled on a braid. "I ran into Eric of all people. He told me what happened and that you'd backed out of Millenium Lint's gigs for the past two weeks because of it."
"Actually, they changed their name," Jordan said. "They're Midnight Burrito now.

I never cared,” he said. “I wanted you anyway. I always wanted you.