City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1)

by Cassandra Clare

The only time people turned to watch her go by was when she hurtled past them as she fell downstairs.

“Filters are for cigarettes and coffee,”

Filters are for cigarettes and coffee

“Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt,”

“If there was such a thing as terminal literalism,

you’d have died in childhood,”

“No. I have a high pain threshold. In fact, it’s less of a threshold and more of a large and tastefully decorated foyer. But I do get easily bored.”

scintillating

sparkling or shining brightly

“My fault,” he said, “my own fault, my most grievous fault. It’s Latin.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead absently, as if unaware he was doing it. “Part of the Mass.”

So tell me, if you’re so sure this wasn’t my fault, why is it that the first thought in my mind when I saw Abbadon wasn’t for my fellow warriors but for you?” His other hand came up; he was holding her face, prisoned between his palms. “I know—I knew—Alec wasn’t acting like himself. I knew something was wrong. But all I could think about was you….” He bent his head forward, so their foreheads touched. She could feel his breath stir her eyelashes. She closed her eyes, letting the nearness of him wash over her like a tide. “If he dies, it will be like I killed him,” he said. “I let my father die, and now I’ve killed the only brother I ever had.” “That’s not true,” she whispered. “Yes, it is.” They were close enough to kiss. And still he held her tightly, as if nothing could reassure him that she was real. “Clary,” he said. “What’s happening to me?”

Fidelis ad Mortem.

Faithful Unto Death