Elizabeth Lowe

“So you speak French?" Isabelle sighed. "I wish I spoke another language. But Hodge never thought we needed to learn anything but ancient Greek and Latin, and nobody speaks those."
"I also speak Russian and Italian. And some Romanian," Sebastian said with a modest smile. "I could teach you some phrases-"
"Romanian? That's impressive," said Jace. "Not many people speak it."
"Do you?" Sebastian asked with interest.
"Not really," Jace said with a smile so disarming Simon knew he was lying. "My Romanian is pretty much limited to useful phrases like, 'Are these snakes poisonous?' and 'But you look much too young to be a police officer.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“Clary: What are you doing here, anyway?
Jace: 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but-
Clary: I'm going to bed.”
― Cassandra Clare

“Simon!" The voice was faint, but his hearing caught it over the pop and crackle of glowing flames. The smoke in the corridor had presaged heat; the heat was here now, pressing against him like an oppressive wall. "Simon!"
The voice was Clary's. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense of memory of what he'd most loved during life to carry him throught the process of death.
"Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!"
Simon jumped to his feet. he doubted his mind would conjure that up.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“But Clary never found out what it wasn't, because there was a cry of "Jace!" and Alec appeared, breathless from pushing his way through the crowd to get them. His dark hair was a mess and there was blood on his clothes, but his eyes were bright with a mixture of relief and anger. He grabbed Jace by the front of his jacket. "What happened to you?"
Jace looked affronted. "What happened to me?"
Alec looked at him, not lightly. "You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours?"
"A long one?" Jace suggested.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass