Rebecca

“No killing,” Jordan said. “We’re trying to make you feel peaceful, so you don’t go up in flames. Blood, killing, war, those are all non-peaceful things. Isn’t there anything else you like? Rainforests? Chirping birds?”

“Weapons,” said Jace. “I like weapons.”

“I’m starting to think we have a problematic issue of personal philosophy here.”

Jace leaned forward, his palms flat on the ground. “I’m a warrior,” he said. “I was brought up as a warrior. I didn’t have toys, I had weapons. I slept with a wooden sword until I was five. My first books were medieval demonologies with illuminated pages. The first songs I learned were chants to banish demons. I know what brings me peace, and it isn’t sandy beaches or chirping birds in rainforests. I want a weapon in my hand and a strategy to win.”

Jordan looked at him levelly. “So you’re saying that what brings you peace … is war.”

“Now you get it.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

“Your boyfriend's dead. Thought you should know.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

“Simon,” said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Izzy, her face a pale smudge between dark hair and dark cloak, looking at him, her expression half-angry, half-sad. “I guess this is the part where we say goodbye?”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

“Isabelle tugged her tank top back down and glared at her brother. “You don’t knock now?”

“It’s my bedroom!” Alec spluttered.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire