Why not risk your life, if you don't want to live anyway? Why not risk your life if you'll never be happy no matter what you do?

Little James Herondale, age two, was in fact holding a dagger quite well. He stabbed it into a sofa cushion, sending out a burst of feathers.
"Ducks," he said, pointing at the feathers.

My rapier wit hides my inner pain.

Something snapped inside Maryse. “He is not a Herondale. He is a Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s my son.

The Great and Tragic Love of Jonathan Shadowhunter and David the Silent, by Clary Fray, Aged 17.
SIMON IT WAS BY SIMON NOT ME

(...) Jonathan Shadowhunter: Oh, David, I would trust you with my life!
David: Oh, Jonathan, I would sacrifice my own life for your holy mission! (He almost does)
Jonathan: (weeping) David, you must return to me! I need you! I cannot do this thing without you!
David: Lo, I return!
Jonathan: Zounds! I feel a great stirring in my pantaloons!
David: What doth thy pantalo
SIMON I WILL KILL YOU

It wasn’t sexy," he said.
“It was a little sexy,” Simon said.
He felt much better, having fed, and couldn’t help but poke at Alec a bit.
“It wasn’t,” said Alec.
“I had some feelings,” said Simon.”
"Do feel free to agonize about it on your own time.