Rina

it’s the mortal cup jace, not the mortal toilet bowl.

“how was the seelie queen?” “same as usual.” “raging bitch, then?” “pretty much”

no, i’m a very naughty boy. i do all sorts of bad things. i kick kittens. i make rude gestures at nuns.

“what’s this?” “it’s a girl, alec. your sister isabelle is one.”

the clave has the collective intelligence of a pineapple.

i thought i’d lie on the floor and writhe in pain for awhile. it relaxes me.

that’s simon lewis, and he is my boyfriend. so if any of you think about trying to hurt him because he’s a mundie or–may the angel have mercy on your soul–pursuing him romantically, i will come after you, i will hunt you down and i will crush you to powder.

i was going to watch project runway. it’s on next

never trust a duck.

nobody calls me ‘blondie’ and keeps their kneecaps.

meanwhile, i wanted to tell you that lately i’ve been cross-dressing. also, i’m sleeping with your mom. i thought you should know.

speaking of hope, did you see that shot alec got off with his bow? that’s my boyfriend.

i think she asked if she could touch my mango.

i was alive when the dead sea was just a lake that was feeling rather poorly.

usually i’m remarkably good natured. try me on a day that doesn’t end in y.

a warlock who looks like a gay sonic the hedge hog and dresses like the child catcher from chitty chitty bang bang.

hot faerie threesome. i can say i knew you when.

i’m pure at heart. it repels the dirt.

“and i don’t know how to be smooth, sexy vampire simon for you, either!“ “you were never that smooth, simon.”

not necessarily. i turn myself down occasionally just to keep it interesting.

it isn’t against the law to be an idiot.

first candy and flowers, then the apology letters, then the ravenous demon hoards- all in one day.

demon pox, oh demon pox. just how is it acquired? one must go down to the bad part of town until one is very tired. demon pox, oh demon pox, i had it all along—not the pox, you foolish blocks, i mean this very song— for i was right, and you were wrong!

"a…lord montgomery? you dated a member of the nobility? how am I ever going to compete with that?” “you’re lord montgomery, simon!”

“‘will. do you care more about the plan being enacted or about getting credit for it?” “that. the second one.”

i am a man and men do not consume pink beverages.

oh, i’m sorry. is there a different highway you’d like to die on? because we can arrange that.

the meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited like me.

but he hurt jules, so when we track him down, i am going to chop him up and feed him to my fish. well, i’m going to buy some. i’m going to buy goldfish and feed them blood until they acquire a taste for human flesh.

when i first arrived in london, i so quickly tired of being surrounded by so many people that it was only with great difficulty that i refrained from seizing the next unfortunate who crossed my path and committing violent acts upon their person.

i see you have decided to follow in the long herondale tradition of poor decision-making.

“so you just came here to torture me and talk about yourself?” “oh, simon, simon, simon. you may not remember, but that’s kind of our thing.”

i’ve heard the word ‘fear’, i simply choose to believe it doesn’t apply to me.

“i’m trying to figure out how someone could live in a brothel for a month and not notice. you must be terribly dull-witted. if it helps at all, it seemed to be quite a high-class establishment. nicely furnished, fairly clean…” “sounds as if you’ve visited your fair share of brothels. making a study of them?” “more of a hobby.’”

“jesus!” “actually, it’s just me, although i’ve been told the resemblance is startling.”

nice, bah. he’s gorgeous. you should leave him here. i could hang hats on him and things.

that’s why when major bad asses greet each other in movies, they don’t say anything, they just nod. the nod means ‘I am a badass and I recognize that you, too, are a badass’, but they don’t say anything because they’re wolverine and magneto and it would mess up their vibe to explain.

i’m a werewolf not a golden retriever.

i’ll crash the wedding. i’ll jump out of the cake, but not in a sexy way. like, with grenades

did you ever think that in a past life alec was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? because i do.

“have you got a spider anywhere?” “why would i have a spider? do i look like someone who would collect them?” “no offense, but you kind of do.”

unfortunately, we are all out of bitter revenge at the moment. so it’s either tea or nothing.

“i’m not gay. i’m not straight. i’m not interested.” “your sexuality is ‘not interested’?” “that’s right.”

just kissing? how quickly you dismiss our love.

you had to make a crazy jail friend didn’t you? you couldn’t just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?

just coffee. black like my soul.

magnus did not have enormous respect for the law, but if he was breaking it he wanted to look good doing it.

i don’t want to grow up, i want to be an angst ridden teenager who can’t confront his own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead.

“magnus, you were trying to flirt with your own plate.” “i’m a very open-minded sort of fellow!” “ragnor is not. when he found out that you were feeding us guinea pigs, he hit you over the head with your plate. it broke.” “so ended our love. ah, well. It would never have worked between me and the plate anyway.”

“when will says ‘enterprising’, he means 'morally deficient.” “no, I mean enterprising. when i mean morally deficient, i say, ‘now that’s something i would have done.’”

never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body. that just leads to unhappiness and surprise ambushes.

“i promise to charm the dickens out of him. i shall charm him with such force that when i am done, he will be left lying limply on the ground, trying to remember his own name.” “the man’s eighty-nine. he may well have the problem anyway.”

i thought: classic jace. never makes a mess when a catastrophe will do.

“that’s not the spirit of the law, emma. remember? ‘the law is hard, but it is the law’” “i thought it was ‘the law is annoying, but it is also flexible.’”

“a little girl robbed you?” “actually she wasn’t a little girl at all, as it turns out, but a midget in a dress with a penchant for violence, who goes by the name of six-fingered nigel.”

“goodness. if you keep seeing six-fingered nigel like this, he’ll expect you to declare your intentions.”

you told us to leave you in the desert, because you planned to start a new life as a cactus.

your pretense does not fool me, gnome. my eye will be upon you

good proverb. however, like most proverbs, it sounds wise and yet does not actually clarify anything.