Tales From The Shadowhunter Academy Quotes

Every decision you make, makes you. Never let other people choose who you’re going to be.

Every student, Shadowhunter and mundane alike, knew the name Herondale. It was Jace’s last name. It was the name of heroes.

Like all Herondales, his ability to love without measure, without end, was both his great gift and his great curse.

We are all what our pasts have made us,” Catarina said. “The accumulation of thousands of daily choices. We can change ourselves, but never erase what we’ve been.

Do not let any of them tell you who you are. You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you have always been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind.

Maybe warlocks only liked other warlocks. Though Magnus did seem to like Alec quite a lot.

You have been known to call upon Brother Zachariah for a broken toe. "It was turning green,” said Will

To his children, Will showed the same love he had always shown to her, fierce and unyielding. And the same protectiveness he had only ever showed to one other person: the person James had been named after. Will’s parabatai, Jem.

You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you always have been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind.

You never know when, and you never know who, but someday a stranger will burst through the door of your life and transform it utterly. The world will be turned upside down, and you will be happier for it.

The point wasn’t that you tried to live forever; the point was that you lived, and did everything you could to live well. The point was the choices you made and the people you loved.

Obviously you would call them Malec,” said Beatriz. “Are you stupid, Simon?

Spoon!” James said, running at his uncle Gabriel and jabbing him in the thigh. Gabriel mussed the boy’s hair affectionately. “You’re such a good boy,” he said. “I often wonder how you could possibly be Will’s.” “Spoon,” James said, leaning against his uncle’s leg lovingly. “No, Jamie,” Will urged. “Your honorable father has been impugned. Attack, attack!

All of us lost something. Some of us lost everything.

I am Tessa Gray,” she said in a low, clear voice. “And I believe in the importance of stories.

None of this is fair. It isn't fair that part of your life was ripped from you. It's not fair that you were ripped away from me. I'm so angry Simon.

Simon, don’t you think I’m scared of that too? You’re not the only one on that ledge. If we jump, we jump together. We fall together.

I am here to determine my relationship." Simon goggled. She couldn't be talking about him. Could she? "Do you see that man?" Isabelle asked, pointing at Simon. Apparently she was talking about him. "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.

Maybe one day it will be just you and me, my little blueberry," Magnus said conversationally. "But not for a long, long time. We'll take care of him, you and I. Won't we?" Max Lightwood made a happy burbling sound that Magnus took as agreement.

Loving someone doesn't mean you're never going to make mistakes.

It was a lesson, Magnus thought, to love while you could, love what was fragile and beautiful and imperiled. Nobody was guaranteed forever.

Hey, Clary. You take care of yourself," he said. "I know you can." He paused. "And take care of Jace, that poor, helpless blond." Jace made an obscene gesture, which actually did feel familiar to Simon, so he knew that was their thing.

We all change the world, with every day of living in it," Magnus said. "You just have to decide HOW you want to change the world.

Well, I'm a Lovelace. My family quit Shadowhunting due to laziness in the 1700s.

Mark spoke like a poem and walked like a dance.

Isabelle. It was always Isabelle.

Father nevver once looked at any woman the way he looked at Mother, with joy and thanksgiving, as if she was a living wish, granted past all hope.

Judging people together was an essential part of best friendship

We are all our past have made us. The accumulation of thousands of daily choices. We can change ourselves, but never erase what we've been. Forgetting those choices doesn't unmake them.

She was like an avenging angel, her vengeance swift and deadly.

It's not Cowardly to make a choice about what you want your life to be. Choosing what's right for you, maybe that's the bravest thing you can do.

Magnus believed that many old things were creations of enduring beauty. The pyramids. Michelangelo’s David. Versailles. Magnus himself.

You cannot simply ask whether people look like their demon grandfather!

I know you: You’ll come find me again, you’ll come rescue me no matter what happens. You’ll come for me, and I’ll discover you all over again. I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now.

What’s wrong with you?” Simon demanded. “Saying ‘don’t panic’ is guaranteed to make everyone panic! Be specific about the problem.

Will stopped glaring at Gabriel, and turned to Tessa. He looked at her and his face softened: the traces of the wild, broken boy he had been vanished, replaced with the expression often worn by the man he was now, who knew what it was to love and be loved. “Dear heart,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it. “Who knows your courage better than I?

Simon was still trying to work out how Shadowhunter government and also Shadowhunter family trees worked. They all seemed to be related to each other and it was very disturbing.

People could bear so much, but Simon did not know how much of the original you was left when the world had twisted you into a whole different shape.

You couldn't know how much going away had changed you until you tried to go home.

I hate people forcing me to talk about my feelings,” said Alec.

It's hard to believe how much light you cand find in the darkness, when you have someone who loves you.

I think sometimes it's too hard to believe in yourself. You just do the things you're not sure you can do. You just act, in spite of not being certain. I don't believe I can change the world--it sounds stupid to even talk about it--but I'm going to try.

Pulvis et umbra sumus," said James once, out loud in class, after hearing too many whispers. "My father says that sometimes. We are but dust and shadows. Maybe I'm just -getting a head start on all of you.

Little James Herondale, age two, was in fact holding a dagger quite well. He stabbed it into a sofa cushion, sending out a burst of feathers. "Ducks," he said, pointing at the feathers.

The Herondales are a rather infamous line, as you probably know. Many of them heroes, some of them traitors, so many of them brash, wild creatures consumed by their passions, whether it be love or hate.

For the first time, he looked at her, and she wasn’t a stranger, she was Clary—his friend. His family. The girl he’d sworn always to protect. The girl he loved as fiercely as he loved himself.

How is Ty? There is nothing wrong with Ty, but he is different, and the Clave hates all that is different. They will try to punish him, for being who he is. They would punish a star for burning.

James reared up from his bed and threw himself into Uncle Jem’s arms. He had heard some people found the Silent Brothers frightening, with their silent speech and their stitched eyes, but to him the sight of a Silent Brother’s robe always meant Uncle Jem, always meant steadfast love.

I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now." Isabelle said in a calm voice, "I know." Simon stared at her. "Was that...," he said slowly. "Was that a Star Wars reference? Because if it was, I would like to declare my love all over again.

This is how a faerie loves: with her whole body and soul. This is how a faerie loves: with destruction. This is how a faerie loves: with a gift.

It’s hard to believe how much light you can find in the darkness, when you have someone who loves you.

Feeling this way was a particular kind of horror, having the emotions without the memories.

History, the way the teachers liked it, was a racetrack, a straight shot from start to finish line; life itself was more of a maze.

Clary and Simon continued to stare judgmentally. It made Simon very happy. Judging people together was an essential part of best friendship.

Simon’s love life was complicated, but there was a pang, just for a moment, for this woman talking graphic novels with him. Ah, well. Tessa Gray, foxy nerd, was probably dating someone already.

I wish I was close to Jace Herondale," Julie sighted. "He is so gorgeous." "He is foxier than a fox fur in a fox hole on fox hunting day," Beatriz agreed dreamily.

He'd probably been born with abs. Some were born with abs, some achieved abs, and some - like Simon - had abs thrust upon them by cruel instructors.

There’s always something about true parabatai. They don’t need to speak to communicate. I saw the two of you having entire conversations without saying a word. It was like that with my parabatai Will. I never had to ask Will what he was thinking. In fact, it was usually better not to ask Will what he was thinking…” That got a smile from Magnus and Catarina both.

And what do you like to do, little man?" "I like-books," James had said. While standing in the bookshop, with a parcel of books under his arm. The lady had given him a pitying look. "I read-erm-rather a lot," James went on, dreary master of the obvious. King of the obvious. Emperor of the obvious.

You are James Herondale, said Uncle Jem. As you always were. Part your mother, part your father, part yourself. I would not change any part of you if I could.

Magnus noticed Maryse and Robert, who did not have the best relationship and hardly ever spoke to each other, having a brief whispered consultation about what YouTube might be.

I’m not going to kiss you,” Simon said. “Ever.” “I’ve never heard anyone say that before,” Jace mused. “It was a unique experience.

Tobias loved her more than he’d loved anything—his family, his duty, even himself. There, perhaps, the Herondale blood ran true.

I will always look to you for light

Speaking of luck, Isabelle Lightwood is a total babe. Actually, she's better than a babe: She's a hero. She came all the way here to tell the world you were hers. You're telling me she doesn't know another hero when she sees one? You're going to figure out what you're doing here. Isabelle Lightwood believes in you, and for what it's worth, I do too.

Have you never seen a movie? Read a comic book? That's always how it starts - just a little temptation, just a little taste of evil, and then BAM, your light saber turns red and you're breathing through a big black mask and slicing off your son's hand just to be mean." They looked at him blankly.

Check you out,' said Magnus. 'My famous boyfriend, inspiration to the masses.

Give me the baby,” Maryse said jealously. “You’ve had him for four whole minutes, Clarissa.

This stupid weapons-shopping idea. Last time I take dating advice from Jace.” “You let Jace plan our date?

Simon bristled. She wasn’t his Isabelle, not anymore. He wondered if she ever truly had been. Isabelle didn’t seem like the type of girl to belong to someone. It was one of the things he liked best about her.

He thought of his remembrance of Jordan, thought of how it hurt to even look at Isabelle and Clary. Without memory, they were lost. And nobody wanted someone they loved to be lost.

Uh, Magnus has a boyfriend,” said Simon. There was a frightening glint in Julie’s eye. “There are some mountains you still want to climb, even though there are ‘No Trespassing’ signs up.

Simon," Isabelle interrupted, "you're talking like a nerd." She said it almost fondly, but it freaked Simon out more. "And I don't know how to be smooth, sexy vampire Simon for you, either!" Isabelle's perfect mouth curved, like a dark half-moon in her pale face. "You were never that smooth, Simon." "Oh," said Simon. "Oh, thank God. I know you've had a lot of boyfriends. I remember that was a faerie, and"--another flash of memory, this time most unwelcome--"a...Lord Montgomery? You dated a member of the nobility? How am I ever going to compete with that?" Isabelle still looked fond, but it was diluted with a good deal of impatience. "You're Lord Montgomery, Simon!

But I know your blood doesn't define you. What defines you is the choices you make. If I've learned anything this year, it's that. And I also know that loving someone--even when it's scary, even when there are consequences--is never the wrong thing to do. Loving someone is the opposite of hurting her.

It’s okay,” said Alec. “I once walked in on you and Isabelle. I guess turnabout’s fair play.” He frowned. “Although you two were in my room at the time, so actually I think you still owe me.

We all change the world, with every day of living in it - Magnus Bane

And I also know that loving someone—even when it’s scary, even when there are consequences—is never the wrong thing to do.

But what about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "What do I do?" "I have no idea," said Jace. "So you just came here to torture me and talk about yourself?" Simon demanded. "Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon," said Jace. "You may not remember, but that's kind of our thing.

No. You don't get to call me Izzy, you don't send me letters, you don't follow me into dark corridors and try to save me from rats." "Trust me, we see a rat, it's every man for himself.

He did not know why books had not taught him how to talk so other people wanted to listen.

The baby gazed up at Alec with grave eyes only a shade darker than Alec’s own. Alec gazed back at the baby. He looked as surprised as anyone else by the baby’s sudden hush.

How did you know?” Simon asked. “It’s not that hard to see,” Magnus replied, and finally some of the usual levity was in his voice. “I’m also literally magic.

I’m a mess, but I’m not an idiot. I just wanted to be alone and think depressing thoughts.

You were a Downworlder once. That will always be a part of you. Even if you forget, they never will.

I never want anything but this, I never want a less strange love.

So you’re going in?” Jace looked at the water and cringed. “Even I’d think twice about that. And I’m amazing.” “Why do you have to get involved in everything?” Simon asked. “I go where Clary goes.

I love you, she told him, night after night, for seven years. Faeries cannot lie, and he knew that.

Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon,” said Jace. “You may not remember, but that’s kind of our thing.

His mind stilled. His soul quieted. And his memories-the parts of himself he'd feared were lost forever-had come home.

Simon had to save the world, and the rest of us get in because we have the right surname?" George asked lightly. He winked at Simon. "Hard luck on you, mate.

People are afraid of anybody who is different: It makes them worry everyone else is different too, and just pretending to be all the same.

There are only four points of warmth and brightness, in the whole world, that burn fiercely enough for me to feel something like the person I was. Your mother, your father, Lucie, and you. You love, and tremble, and burn.

Sometimes people get taken away from you whether you want it or not. And sometimes that hurts so much, it might be easier to forget.

Your mother says she will be brave and keep a stiff upper lip,” said Father. “Americans are heartless. I will cry into my pillow every night.

I want the Law to change. I do not want to get married until we can get married in gold.” Alec

It’s called the Magnus effect,” he said.

Being too cool for school was Jace's thing.

He tried not to hug her too hard, even though she was kind of hugging him too hard. In fact, she was pretty much crushing his rib cage. He didn't mind, though.

He felt something he'd never felt before - but he had a sinking sensation that he recognized it anyway. He was pretty sure he felt like he was in love.

Love, real love, is being seen. Being known. Knowing the ugliest part of someone, and loving them anyway

Izzy -I don't know why you'd wait for me, but if you do, I promise to make myself worth that wait. Or I'll try. I can promise I am going to try.

What is a Shadowhunter made of, if they desert their own, if they throw away a child’s heart like rubbish left on the side of the road? Tell me, Simon Lewis, if that is what Shadowhunters are, why would I wish to be one?

I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them to be real. —Oscar Wilde

I've been around for a long time. I've also been gorgeous for a long time.

He had to escape. He had to go and become a hero, the way he had been once.

Maryse had spoken to her son’s partner with affection she had never shown before, and now she wanted to hold the baby. Maryse was experiencing full-on grandma fever. The Lightwoods thought he and Alec were keeping the baby.

If you made the baby for yourself and Alec, you can tell me,” said Robert. “I’m a very broad-minded man. Or—I’m trying to be. I’d like to be. I would understand.” “If I made . . . the . . . baby . . . ?” Magnus repeated. He was not certain where to start. He had imagined Robert Lightwood knew how babies were made. “Magically,” Robert whispered. “I am going to pretend you never said that to me,” said Magnus. “I am going to pretend we never had this conversation.

She smiled and it was the kind of smile you give to someone who can make you want to throttle them and kiss them all at the same time.

The baby looked at Simon, then back at Alec. His small face looked thoughtful, as if he might shake his head and go: That Jace, what will he do next?

Seriously, Jace, what is wrong with you?” This seemed a reasonable question to Magnus.

Why send a letter when you can send something truly magnificent?

Magnus had been around the block before blocks were invented.

I want everyone I care about--I want people I don't even know, I want all of us--to know we have each other's backs so we do not have to fight alone.

You will be tempted to think this ordeal marks you as weak. Instead, remember it as proof of your strength.

There were impressive stone paths and benches and even a statue of an angel that gave Simon nervous fits, since he was a Doctor Who fan. The angel wasn’t weeping, exactly, but it looked too depressed for Simon’s liking.

Love, real love, is being seen. Being known. Knowing the ugliest part of someone, and loving them anyway. And... I guess I think two people in love become something else, something more than the sum of their parts, you know? That it must be like you’re creating a new world that exists just for the two of you. You’re gods of your own pocket universe.

Nice old ladies don’t throw your Pokémon cards in the trash,” Simon pointed out.

They were in love, of the realest, truest kind.

The problem was that Simon did not know how to pack like a badass.

I wish I could have your bright outlook on life, but unfortunately I cannot help looking around at the world and noticing that we are surrounded by idiots.

People are afraid of anybody who is different: It makes them worry everyone else is different too, and just pretending to be all the same.” James

Divided we stand,' Simon thought, his stubborn biceps refusing to bulge. 'United we do push-ups.

There's nothing wrong with George. It is not possible to find fault with George. He's a perfect Scottish angel. He always shares the snacks that his mother sends him and he's better- looking than Jace. There, I said it. I'm not taking it back.

I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero, in fact, until the morning light. And she's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon - because I have been kidnapped by evil faeries - and she's gotta be larger than life

What?” Jace was standing up now. “When you first step off. Bend the knees right away. Otherwise you did pretty well.” “But what about Isabelle?” Simon asked. “What do I do?” “I have no idea,” Jace said. “So you just came here to torture me and talk about yourself?” Simon demanded. “Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon,” said Jace. “You may not remember, but that’s kind of our thing.” With that, he walked away, clearly aware of the admiring glances that followed his every step.

You love, and tremble, and burn. Do not let any of them tell you who you are. You are the flame that cannot be put out. You are the star that cannot be lost. You are who you have always been, and that is enough and more than enough. Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind

What could possibly make you think I have any standards left when it comes to you?

Humans are animals. Pain is their nature.

You’re so sensitive, Simon. Why must you always be so sensitive?” “You’re so terrible, Julie,” said Simon. “Why must you always be so terrible?

The note read: Who could ever love it?

There were few people in the world who understood how much Will and Jem had loved each other, did love each other, and how much Will missed him. But Tessa did.

That was the last cruel irony of Tobias’s life: that he doomed the woman he would have died to save.

Good morning, Si! I saw a rat in the bathroom, but he was taking a nice nap and we didn’t bother each other.

It's obvious to me that you don't want to be here," Robert told his daughter. "What gave it away? The fact that I told you a million times that I didn't want to come? That I didn't want to play your stupid game? That I thought it was cruel and manipulative and a total waste of time?" "Yes," Robert said. "That.

Though I realize that you are both a little annoyed with me, and this might not be the time to shower myself with praise,” Jace said slowly, “honesty compels me to tell you: Yes. Yes, I do think I am hilarious. ‘There goes Jace Herondale,’ people say. ‘Cutting wit, and also totally cut. It’s a burden Simon could never understand.

I'm not your boyfriend, Isabelle," he called out. She went white, Simon was horrified by how badly his words had come out. "I mean, I can't be your boyfriend, Isabelle," he said. "I'm not him--that guy who was your boyfriend. That guy you want.

Usually Robert looked slightly uneasy whenever Alec expressed affection to Magnus. This time, however, he was staring fixedly at the warlock baby and did not even seem to hear.

You're Simon," he breathed. "Simon Lewis.

You never called me. I saved you from getting decapitated by an Eidolon demon and you didn't even call.

It was nice, Simon thought, in the midst of all the terrible things that could happen and sometimes did happen, there was always this. There was a lot of love.

Sed lex, dura lex," said Balogh. The latin phrase had been hammered into them from the first day of the Academy, and Simon was comming to hate the sound of it -so often was it used as an excuse for acting like monsters.

Everybody in this academy, Shadowhunters and mundanes, people with the Sight and without it, every one of them is looking to be a hero. We are all hoping for it, and trying for it, and soon we will all be bleeding for it.

Why should we isolate people who are brave enough to try to become like us--who want to help people? Why should we treat them as if they're less than us, until they prove their worthiness or die? I won't do it.

Ah, there you are," said Scarsbury. "George Lovelace was beside himself. He wanted to assemble a search party for you." Simon regretted his spiteful thoughts about George's horsemanship. "Let me guess," said Simon. "Everyone else said 'Nah, being left for dead builds character.

It's Isabelle," George said. Simon leaped out of bed - or, gallantly tried to, at least. He got a bit tangled in his sheets, so it was more like he tumbled-twisted-THUDDED out of bed, but eventually he made it to his feet, ready to charge into action. "What happened to Isabelle?

He waved good-bye to all these people he barely knew, and somehow loved anyway, and he hoped they could not tell how relived he was to be going.

You must be Magnus Bane,” the blonde said. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Simon.” “I can’t blame him for bragging,” said Magnus.

Don’t worry, hero. If the vamp shows up, I’m here to protect you.” “Great, I can hide behind your massive ego.

Also, for the record, only one of us has actually been a rat—and you’ll note he’s not the one crying.

He took her in his arms and kissed her-kissed her the way he'd been longing to kiss her since he first laid eyes on her, kissed her not like a romance novel hero or a Shadowhunter warrior or some imaginary character from the past, but like Simon Lewis kissing the girl he loved more than anything in the world.

It doesn’t matter if I get my memories back or not,” Simon said. “It doesn’t matter if another demon gives me amnesia tomorrow. I know you: You’ll come find me again, you’ll come rescue me no matter what happens. You’ll come for me, and I’ll discover you all over again. I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now.” Isabelle said in a calm voice: “I know.” Simon stared at her. “Was that . . . ,” he said slowly. “Was that a Star Wars reference? Because if it was, I would like to declare my love all over again.” “Go on, then,” said Isabelle. “I mean it. Say it again. I’ve been waiting awhile.” “I love you,” said Simon.

So stop talking about what a loser you are, because I wouldn’t follow a loser into a slime-covered bedroom or a slime-covered bathroom, and I’ve followed you into both." George paused and said aggressively: "And I would really like to change the phrasing of that last sentence, because it sounded so bad, but I’m not sure how.

Beauty can be like that. Beauty cannot be trusted. Beauty can slip through your fingers like water and burn on your tongue like poison. Beauty can be the shining wall that keeps you from all you love.

No,” said Magnus. “Nor do I intend to tear my whole life into strips and rearrange it because of a baby.” What he said sounded eminently reasonable to him. He was stunned when Robert and Maryse both laughed.

In books and movies, people were either whisked away to a magical land in the clothes they were standing up in, or they glossed over the packing part entirely. Simon now felt he had been robbed of critical information by the media. Should he be putting the kitchen knives in his bag? Should he bring the toaster and rig it up as a weapon?

Simon Lewis, are you forgetting that you were a mundane when I started dating you? A rather scrawny mundane with terrible fashion sense, I should point out. And then you were a vampire, and I still dated you. Then you were a mundane again, but this time with freaking amnesia. And still, inexplicably, I fell in love with you all over again. What could possibly make you think I have any standards left when it comes to you?" "Uh, thank you, I think?" "'Thank you' is the correct response. And also 'I love you, too, Isabelle

She was so overwhelmingly beautiful and impressive, he found it too much to handle. He could barely believe any of his new memroies, but the idea that Isabelle Lightwood had been his girlfriend seemed more unbelievable than the fact that vampires were real and Simon had been one. He didn't have the faintest idea how he had made her feel that way about him once, and so he didn't have the faintest idea how to make her feel that way about him again. It was like asking him to fly.

I think sometimes it’s too hard to believe in yourself. You just do the things you’re not sure you can do. You just act, in spite of not being certain. I don’t believe I can change the world—it sounds stupid to even talk about it—but I’m going to try.

Have a shower, Si," George urged. "Start the day refreshed. Maybe style your hair a little. It wouldn't kill you." Simon shook his head. "There's a dead rat in the bathroom, George. I am not going in the bathroom, George." "He's not dead," George said. "He's sleeping. I'm certain of it." "Senseless optimism is how plagues get started," Simon said. "Ask the medieval peasants of Europe. Oh, wait, you can't." "Were they a jolly bunch?" George asked skeptically. "I'm sure they were much jollier before all the plague," said Simon.

Entreat me not to leave thee, Or return from following after thee— For whither thou goest, I will go, And where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Angel do so to me, and more also, If aught but death part thee and me.

At the Accords Hall, Jace was waiting for them on the front step, looking like Jace in a suit. Jace in a suit was unbearable. He gave Clary a look up and down. “That dress is . . .” He had to clear his throat. Simon enjoyed his discomfiture. Not much ever threw Jace, but Clary had always been able to throw him like a Wiffle ball on a windy day. His eyes were practically cartoon hearts.

There’s a scientific phenomenon to describe something that happens when an object is in motion. You think you know exactly what path it will take and where it will end up. Then suddenly, for no reason you can see . . . the arc changes. It goes somewhere you would never have expected.

I love you unconditionally,' his mom had said, once or twice, when he was younger. 'That's how parents love. I love you no matter what.' People said thing like that, without thinking of potential nightmare scenarios or horrific conditions, the whole changing and love slipping away. None of them ever dreamed love would be tested, and fail.

Mundanes can be heroes too," said James. "You should know that better than I. Your mother was a mundane! My father told me about all she did before she Ascended. Everyone here knows people who were mundanes. Why should we isolate people who are brave enough to try to become like us -who want to help people? Why should we treat them as if they're less than us, until they prove their worthiness or die? I won't do it.

You know, this porridge isn't at all bad," Simon said, digging in. George nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full. Beatriz looked sad for them, and possibly sad that boys were so stupid in general. "This isn't porridge," she told them. "These are scrambled eggs." "Oh, no," George whispered faintly, his mouth still full, his voice terribly sad. "Oh no.

He had wanted to go to the Academy and become a Shadowhunter, to learn more about his own life and remember everything he had lost, to become someone stronger and better. Except that you did not become someone stronger and better by only thinking about yourself.

Isabelle. Simon's mouth moved to form the shape of her name, pressing it into his pillow. He'd told himself he wasn't going to think about her, not until he was really getting somewhere in the Acedemy. Not until he was on his way to being better, being the person she wanted him to be.

Someday he would lose Clary and Isabelle, or they would lose him. Nothing could stop that. So what was the point? he'd asked Catrina, but he knew better than that. The point wasn't that you tried to live forever; the point was that you LIVED, and did everything you could to live well. The point was the choices you made and the people you loved.

Jon gave Simon a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “I’m going to miss your witty repartee this summer, Lewis.” “I’m going to hope you get eaten by a spider demon this summer, Cartwright.” George slipped an arm around both of them, grinning maniacally and humming “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?

Not the letter again?” Simon’s roommate at the Academy, George Lovelace, groaned. He flung himself down on his bed, sweeping an arm melodramatically across his forehead. “Oh, Isabelle, my darling, if I stare at this letter long enough, maybe I’ll telepathically woo you back to my weeping bosom.

James wanted friends, but he had not wanted to be the kind of friend who people settled for, because they could not get any better. Except he was, as he had always secretly feared, tedious and poor company. He did not know why books had not taught him how to talk so other people wanted to listen.

In books or movies, people were either whisked away to a magical land in the clothes they were standing up in, or they glossed over the packing part entirely. Simon now felt he had been robbed of critical information by the media. Should he be putting the kitchen knives in his bag? Should he bring the toaster and rig it up as a weapon? Simon did neither of those things. Instead, he went with the safe option: clean underwear and hilarious T-shirts. Shadowhunters had to love hilarious T-shirts, right? Everyone loved hilarious T-shirts.

Be a hero, Simon," Simon muttered bitterly, remembering the life Magnus Bane had dangled before him in their first meeting - or at least, the first one Simon could remember. "Have an adventure, Simon. How about, turn your life into one long agonizing gym class, Simon." "Dude, you're talking to yourself again.

The Smile won Matthew extra time before bed, extra Christmas pudding, extra anything he wanted. Adults were helpless to resist The Smile. Matthew gave his all to this particular smile. Butter melted. Birds sang. People slipped about dazed amid the butter and birdsong.

Ms. Loss…,’ said Simon. ‘Can I ask you—what you’re doing?’ ‘Dean Penhallow has decided that she is not going to order fresh food supplies until all this delicious, nutritious soup has been consumed. So I am going to bury this soup in the woods,’ announced Catarina Loss. ‘Grab the other handle.

But George turned Simon's assumptions on their head on a daily basis. As he was doing right at this moment, wiping away something that looked suspiciously like a tear. "Are you... Crying?" Simon asked, Incredulous. "Of course not." George gave his eyes another furious wipe. "Well, in my defense," he added, sounding only slightly abashed, "death is a terrible thing." "It's a dead rat," Simon pointed out. "A dead rat in Your Shoe, I might add.

Simon would have felt both honored and love, except mostly he felt weird, because he had only a few broken fragments of memory that said he knew these people at all, and a whole lifetime of memories that said they were armed, overly intense strangers. The kind you might avoid on public transportation.

He felt . . . he didn’t know how he felt, except stunned. Filled with joy and confusion and what felt like a flickering light, growing brighter by the second. He felt strong. He felt ready. He felt like his abs were still pretty much only a two-pack, but he supposed even a magic cup could get you only so far.

I like Clary," he said simply. "She always tries to do what's right, and she never lets anyone else tell her what right is. She reminds my parabatai that he wants to live. Occasionally I wish she'd take fewer mad risks, but if I hated reckless crazy-brave people, I'd hate..." "Let me guess," said Simon. "His name rhymes with Face Herringfail." Alec laughed and Simon mentally congratulated himself.

Simon had shamelessly tried to curry favor with Isabelle’s father by teaching Robert Lightwood how to use Simon’s digital watch as a timer. Robert was now holding the watch in a death grip and studying it carefully. It would be Robert’s turn with the baby again in sixteen minutes, and he had clasped Simon’s shoulder and said, “Thanks, son,” which Simon took as a blessing to date Robert’s daughter.

Jon, Julie, and the others in the elite course, who had been devastated to miss Falling Out of Trees with Jace Herondale 101, all stared over as if ready to leap up and save Jace from the bad company he’d fallen into, carry him away in a litter made of chocolate and roses, and bear his children.

I love you unconditionally, his mom had said, once or twice, when he was younger. That’s how parents love. I love you no matter what. People said things like that, without thinking of potential nightmare scenarios or horrific conditions, the whole world changing and love slipping away. None of them ever dreamed love would be tested, and fail.

Once you Ascend, you'll get all your memories back!" Isabelle shouted at him. "If I Ascend, it will be in two years. I'm not going to be the same guy in two years, even if I do get all the memories back, because there will be so many other memories. You're not going to be the same girl. I know you believed in me, Isabelle, I know you believed because you--you cared about him. That means more than I can tell you. But, Isabelle, Isabelle, it isn't fair of me to take advantage of your belief. It isn't fair to keep you waiting for him, when he isn't ever coming back.

Against all odds, the Academy had come to feel like home. A slimy, moldy, dungeonlike home without working toilets, maybe, but home nevertheless. He and George had even named the rats that lived behind their walls. Every night, they left Jon Cartwright Jr., III, and IV a piece of stale bread to nibble, in hopes they'd prefer the crumbs to human feet.

Would you have joined the Circle. Would you have stood by Valentine's side at the Uprising? Raise your hand, if you think it's possible." Simon was unsurprised to see not a single hand in the air. He'd played this game back in mundane school, every time his history class covered World War II. Simon knew no one ever thought they would be a Nazi. Simon also knew that, statistically, most of them were wrong.

The Law is hard, but it's the Law," Simon added in disgust. "So freaking what? If the Law is wrong, why not change it? Do you know what the world would look like if we were still following the laws made up back in the Dark Ages?" "You know who else used to talk like that?" Jon asked ominously. "Let me guess: Valentine." Simon scowled. "Because apparently in all of Shadowhunter history only one guy has bothered to ask any questions.

Life at the Shadowunter Academy was lacking in a lot of things Simon once belived he couldn't live without: computers, music, comic books, indoor plumbing. Over the past couple of months, he'd gotten mostly used to doing without, but there was one glaring absence he still couldn't wrap his head around. Shadowhunter Academy had no nerds.

Simon had only had a few encounters with Jem Carstairs, who was apparently as old as his wife, Tessa Gray. They both looked amazingly fit for 150 years. Tessa even looked pretty hot. (Maybe Jem looked hot too? As Simon had thought once before, he probably wasn’t the greatest judge of male attractiveness.) Was it weird to think people who were twice as old as your grandparents were good-looking?

So, I guess, thanks for sticking around for that whole thing with my dad," Isabelle said. "You didn't exactly give me much of a choice," Simon pointed out. Isabelle laughed, almost fondly. "You really have no idea how a social encounter is supposed to work, do you? I say 'thank you'; you say 'you're welcome.'" "Like, if I said, thank you for fooling all my friends into thinking you were a wild-and-crazy demon summoner so that they could get in trouble with the dean, you would say...?" "You're welcome for teaching them all a valuable lesson." She grinned.

Losing myself,” he said. “What?” “That’s what I’m afraid of. Losing myself, in this. In you. I’ve spent this whole year trying to find myself, to figure out who I am, and now there’s you, there’s us, there’s this all-consuming, terrifying black hole of a feeling, and if I give into it . . . I feel like I’m standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, you know? Like, here’s something bigger, deeper than the human mind is built to fathom. And I’m just supposed to . . . jump in?

Everybody in this academy, Shadowhunters and mundanes, people with the Sight and without it, every one of them is looking to be a hero. We are all hoping for it, and trying for it, and soon we will be bleeding for it. You’re just like the rest of us, Si. Except there’s one thing about you that’s different: We all want to be heroes, but you know you can be one. You know in another life, in an alternate universe, however you want to think of it, you were a hero. You can be one again. Maybe not the same hero, but you have it in you to make the right choices, to make the big sacrifices. That’s a lot of pressure. But it’s a lot more hope than any of the rest of us have. Think about it that way, Simon Lewis, and I think you’re pretty lucky.

Simon blinked himself awake, confused, for a moment, why he was in a dungeon that smelled of dung rather than his Brooklyn bedroom - then, once he got his bearings, confused all over again about why he was being awoken in the middle of the night by a wide-eyed Scotsman. "Is there a fire?" Simon asked. "There better be a fire. Or a demon attack. And I'm not talking about some puny lower-lever demon, mind you. You want to wake me up in the middle of a dream about rock superstardom, it better be a Greater Demon.

Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Maryse told her son. She advanced on Alec, her hands out. She reminded Magnus of a bird of prey, talons outstretched, overcome by hunger. “What do you say,” she said in an alarmingly sweet voice, “you let me hold the baby? I’m the one in the room with the most experience with babies, after all.” “That’s not true, Alec,” said Robert. “That is not true! I was very involved with all of you when you were young. I’m excellent with babies.” Alec blinked at his father, who had appeared by Alec’s side with Shadowhunter speed. “As I recall,” Maryse said, “you bounce them.” “Babies love that,” Robert claimed. “Babies love bouncing.

We want you to tell us about vampires." Simon grinned. "What do you want to know? Scariest is Eli in Let the Right One In, cheesiest is late-era Lestat, most underrated is David Bowie in The Hunger. Sexiest is definitely Drusilla, though if you ask a girl, she'll probably say Damon Salvatore or Edward Cullen. But..." he shrugged, "You know girls." Julie's and Beatriz's eyes were wide. "I didn't think you'd know so many!" Beatriz exclaimed. "Are they... are they your friends?" "Oh, sure, Count Dracula and I are like this," Simon said, crossing his fingers to demonstrate. "Also Count Chocula. Oh, and my BFF Count Blintzula. He's a real charmer...." He trailed off as he realized no one else was laughing. In fact, no one seemed to realize he was joking. "They're from TV," he prompted them. "Or, uh, cereal." "What's he talking about?" Julie asked Jon, perfect nose wrinkling up in confusion. "Who cares?" Jon said.

James had thought he wanted a friend like himself, a parabatai who was shy and quiet and would enter in on James’s feelings about the terror of parties. Instead here was Matthew, who was the life and soul of every party, who made dreadful hairbrush decisions, who was unexpectedly and terribly kind. Who had tried to be his friend and kept trying, even though James did not know what trying to be a friend looked like. Who could see James, even when he was a shadow. “Yes,

Every time they saw him, they recognized him and knew him and expected things of him. And every time he came up blank. It was like watching someone digging where they knew they'd buried something precious, digging and digging and realizing that whatever it was--was gone. But they kept digging just the same, because the idea of losing it was so terrible and because maybe. Maybe. He was that lost treasure. He was that maybe. And he hated it. That was the secret he was trying to keep from them, the one he was always fearing he would betray.

Oh,” Jace said carelessly, as if he hadn’t been waiting out here for the express purpose of seeing Simon off. He looked up, golden gaze casual, then looked away. “You.” Being too cool for school was Jace’s thing. Simon supposed he must have understood and been fond of it, once. “Hey, I figured I wasn’t going to get the chance to ask this again. You and me,” Simon said. “We’re pretty tight, aren’t we?” Jace looked at him for a moment, face very still, and then bounded to his feet and said: “Absolutely. We’re like this.” He crossed two of his fingers together. “Actually, we’re more like this.” He tried to cross them again. “We had a little bit of initial tension, as you may later recall, but that was all cleared up when you came to me and confessed that you were struggling with your feelings of intense jealousy over my—these were your words—stunning good looks and irresistible charm.” “Did I,” said Simon. Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, buddy. I remember it clearly.” “Okay, whatever. The thing is … Alec’s always really quiet around me,” Simon said. “Is he just shy, or did I tick him off and I don’t remember it? I wouldn’t like to go away without trying to make things right.” Jace’s expression took on that peculiar stillness again. “I’m glad you asked me that,” he said finally. “There is something more going on. The girls didn’t want me to tell you, but the truth is—

Simon opened the door and was not surprised to find Jace standing outside of it. “Here,” Simon said, handing him the letter. “Took you long enough,” Jace said. “Now we’re even,” said Simon. “Go party in the Herondale house with your weird family.” “I plan to,” said Jace, and smiled a sudden, strangely endearing smile. He had a chipped tooth. The smile made him seem like he was Simon’s age, and maybe they were friends after all. “Good night, Wiggles.” “Wiggles?” “Yes, Wiggles. Your nickname? It’s what you always made us call you. I almost forgot your name was Simon, I’m so used to calling you Wiggles.” “Wiggles? What does that . . . even mean?” “You would never explain,” Jace said with a shrug. “It was the big mystery about you. As I said, good night, Wiggles. I’ll take care of this.” He held up the letter and used it to make a salute. Simon shut the door. He knew most people on the hall had probably done everything they could to make sure they heard that exchange. He knew that in the morning he would be called Wiggles and there was nothing he would ever be able to do about it. But it was a small price to pay to get a letter to Isabelle.

I have just come from the East End,” he said. “Something about the stories disturbed me, for more than the obvious reasons. I went there to have a look about for myself. And what happened last night proves my theory. There have been many murders recently—all of women, women who . . .” “Prostitutes,” Tessa said. “Quite,” Gabriel said. “Tessa has such an extensive vocabulary,” Will said. “It is one of the most attractive things about her. Shame about yours, Gabriel.” “Will, listen to me.” Gabriel allowed himself a long sigh. “Spoon!” James said, running at his uncle Gabriel and jabbing him in the thigh. Gabriel mussed the boy’s hair affectionately. “You’re such a good boy,” he said. “I often wonder how you could possibly be Will’s.” “Spoon,” James said, leaning against his uncle’s leg lovingly. “No, Jamie,” Will urged. “Your honorable father has been impugned. Attack, attack!

In the Land under the Hill, in the Time Before … Once upon a time, there was a beautiful lady of the Seelie Court who lost her heart to the son of an angel. Once upon a time, there were two boys come to the land of Faerie, brothers noble and bold. One brother caught a glimpse of the fair lady and, thunderstruck by her beauty, pledged himself to her. Pledged himself to stay. This was the boy Andrew. His brother, the boy Arthur, would not leave his side. And so the boys stayed beneath the hill, and Andrew loved the lady, and Arthur despised her. And so the lady kept her boy close to her side, kept this beautiful creature who swore his fealty to her, and when her sister lay claim to the other, the lady let him be taken away, for he was nothing. She gave Andrew a silver chain to wear around his neck, a token of her love, and she taught him the ways of the Fair Folk. She danced with him in revels beneath starry skies. She fed him moonshine and showed him how to give way to the wild. Some nights they heard Arthur’s screams, and she told him it was an animal in pain, and pain was in an animal’s nature. She did not lie, for she could not lie. Humans are animals. Pain is their nature. For seven years they lived in joy. She owned his heart, and he hers, and somewhere, beyond, Arthur screamed and screamed. Andrew didn’t know; the lady didn’t care; and so they were happy. Until the day one brother discovered the truth of the other. The lady thought her lover would go mad with the grief of it and the guilt. And so, because she loved the boy, she wove him a story of deceitful truths, the story he would want to believe. That he had been ensorcelled to love her; that he had never betrayed his brother; that he was only a slave; that these seven years of love had been a lie. The lady set the useless brother free and allowed him to believe he had freed himself. The lady subjected herself to the useless brother’s attack and allowed him to believe he had killed her. The lady let her lover renounce her and run away. And the lady beheld the secret fruits of their union and kissed them and tried to love them. But they were only a piece of her boy. She wanted all of him or none of him. As she had given him his story, she gave him his children. She had nothing left to live for, then, and so lived no longer. This is the story she left behind, the story her lover will never know; this is the story her daughter will never know. This is how a faerie loves: with her whole body and soul. This is how a faerie loves: with destruction. I love you, she told him, night after night, for seven years. Faeries cannot lie, and he knew that. I love you, he told her, night after night, for seven years. Humans can lie, and so she let him believe he lied to her, and she let his brother and his children believe it, and she died hoping they would believe it forever. This is how a faerie loves: with a gift.