"Is there some particular reason that you're here?" ... "Not this again." "Not what again?" said Clary. "Every time I annoy him, he retreats into his… - Cassandra Clare

Every time I annoy him, he retreats into his No Mundanes Allowed tree house.

I keep thinking about blood. I dream about it. Wake up thinking about it. Pretty soon I'll be writing morbid emo poetry about it.

"They can't be worse than vampires. And you did all right with them."
"Did all right with them? By which I take it you mean we survived?"
"Well. . ."
"Faeries," Jace went on, as if Simon hadn't spoken, "are the offspring of demons and angels, with the beauty of angels and the viciousness of demons. A vampire might attack you, if you enter its domain, but a faerie could make you dance until you died with your legs ground into stumps, trick you into a midnight swim and drag you screaming underwater until your lungs burst, fill your eyes with faerie dust until you gouged them out at the roots-"
"Jace!" Clary snapped.

"Do you remember back at the hotel when you promised that if we lived, you’d get dressed up in a nurse’s outfit and give me a sponge bath?" asked Jace.
"It was Simon who promised you the sponge bath."
"As soon as I’m back on my feet, handsome," said Simon.
"I knew we should have left you a rat."