Clockwork Prince (The Infernal Devices, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

“Plunge your hand into a tower of needles,” said Magnus, “and you are likely to cut yourself badly.

“They’re not hideous,” said Tessa. Will blinked at her. “What?” “Gideon and Gabriel,” said Tessa. “They’re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.” “I spoke,” said Will in sepulchral tones, “of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.” Tessa snorted. “And what color do you suppose the inner depths of your soul are, Will Herondale?” “Mauve,” said Will.

If no one cares for you at all, do you even really exist?”

The virtue of angels is that they cannot deteriorate; their flaw is that they cannot improve. Man’s flaw is that he can deteriorate; and his virtue is that he can improve.

Will you never have done asking questions, Tess?” “Not until I get all the answers I want,” she said.

“I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.”

Could you really love two different people at once? Could you split your heart in half?

To his great surprise it was opened not by a footman but by Woolsey Scott, his blond hair in tangles to his shoulders. He wore a dark green dressing gown of Chinese brocade over a pair of dark trousers and a bare chest. A gold-rimmed monocle perched in one eye. He carried a pipe in his left hand, and as he examined Will at his leisure, he exhaled, sending out a cloud of sweet-smelling, cough-inducing smoke. “Finally broken down and admitted you’re in love with me, have you?” he inquired of Will. “I do enjoy these surprise midnight declarations.” He leaned against the door frame and waved a languid ringed hand. “Go along, have at it.”

They all have always loved you, Will Herondale, for you cannot hide what is good about yourself, however hard you try.”