Rose Herondale

“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

“Black for hunting through the night

For death and mourning the color's white

Gold for a bride in her wedding gown

And red to call the enchantment down

White silk when our bodies burn

Blue banners when the lost return

Flame for the birth of a Nephilim

And to wash away our sins.

Gray for the knowledge best untold

Bone for those who don't grow old

Saffron lights the victory march

Green to mend our broken hearts

Silver for the demon towers

And bronze to summon wicked powers

-Shadowhunter children's rhyme”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

“Clary,” Jocelyn said. “I want you to meet Tessa Gray.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

“I hate ducks. Don't know why. I just always have.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls