Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

by Cassandra Clare

“I am somewhat insulted,” Magnus said, “that you went to Malcolm Fade to seek his advice on what to do about Jesse, and did not come to me. Usually I am the warlock you annoy first, and I consider that a proud tradition.”

Bloody demons seem to swarm to it like a beacon every time I step outside.” “Are you sure they’re attacking you because of the sword?” “Are you suggesting it’s my personality?” Alastair snapped.

Love that will give up nothing, love that one is willing to sacrifice for a more comfortable life, is not love, in my opinion. Love should come above all other things.”

“Do you think Cordelia loves him? Matthew, I mean. If she does…” “I know,” Lucie said. “If she does, you’ll go away quietly and leave them to their happiness. Believe me, I am well acquainted with the self-sacrificing nature of Herondale men.

“We all have those we wish to reach, by any means possible. Some are separated from us by death, some by their refusal to listen, or our inability to speak.”

“I don’t care about scandal,” Matthew said, “as should be obvious from every single thing I do. But I have my limits for… myself.”

Usually it was James who planned the secret missions (at least, the important ones; Matthew often planned secret missions that were entirely frivolous).

“Ah,” Magnus said, rather glumly. “I see there are some interpersonal dramatics taking place here.” He held up a hand. “I do not know what they are, nor do I wish to know.

“Well, never let it be said we are not, as a group, up for a deception. Does the Inquisitor know?”

“It’s just hard to know, when you have a secret… will telling it bring healing? Or just more hurt? Isn’t it selfish, to unburden myself just to relieve my own conscience?”

“Perhaps I don’t wish to be unique,” Matthew said. “Perhaps I wish only to be happy and ordinary.”

I want you to be brilliant and wonderful, which you are, and happy, which you are not.”

Perhaps to be a Shadowhunter simply meant drawing runes over one’s scars, over and over.

“It is easy to confuse monstrousness and power,” said Cordelia. “Especially when one is a woman, as one is not supposed to possess either quality.

Wherever you are is home to me.”

“I cannot die,” he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. “I don’t know how to die.” “Nor does anyone living,” said Cordelia. “I suppose you will learn like the rest.”