Will rolled up his sleeves. "We'll probably have to knock down the door--"
"Or," said Jem, reaching out and giving the knob a twist, "not."
The door swung open onto a rectangle of darkness.
"Now, that's simply laziness," said Will.

Blue does not go with everything," Will told her. "It does not go with red, for instance."
"I have a red and blue striped waistcoat," Henry interjected, reaching for the peas.
"And if that isn't proof that those two colors should never be seen together under Heaven, I don't know what is.

Well, she's not responding to my advances," he observed more brightly than he felt, "so she must be dead."
"Or she's a woman of good taste and sense.

Never trust a duck.

Goodness-real goodness- has its own sort of cruelty to it...

He had lost Will Herondale. And he did not know if he could ever get him back.