Shreya Shree

“I guess we'd better move the trash. We can start with the Dumpster." He pointed at it, looking distinctly unenthusiastic.
"You'd rather face a ravening horde of demons, wouldn't you?" Clary said.
"At least they wouldn't be crawling with maggots. Well," he added thoughtfully, "not most of them, anyway. There was this one demon, once, that I tracked down to the sewers under Grand Central—"
"Don't." Clary raised a warning hand. "I'm not really in the mood right now."
"That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me," Jace mused.
"Stick with me and it won't be the last."
The corner of Jace's mouth twitched. "This is hardly the time for idle banter. We have garbage to haul.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“Clary shut her eyes. You didn't say no to an angel, no matter what it had in mind. Her heart pounding, she sat floating in the darkness behind her eyelids, resolutely trying not to think of Jace. But his face appear against the blank screen of her closed eyelids anyway - not smiling at her but looking sidelong, and she could see the scar at his temple, the uneven curl at the corner of his mouth, and the silver line on his throat where Simon had bitten him - all the marks and flaws and imperfections that made up the person she loved most in the world. Jace. A bright light lit her vision to scarlet, and she fell back against the sand, wondering if she was going to pass out - or maybe she was dying - but she didn't want to die, not now that she could see Jace's face so clearly in front of her. She could almost hear his voice, too, saying her name, the way he'd whispered it at Renwick's, over and over again. Clary. Clary. Clary.

"Clary," Jace said. "Open your eyes.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who — well — something of that sort..”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

“We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent