But You Hate Poetry! Yes,

Clary, You're An Artist, Like Your Mother. That Means You See The World In Ways That Other People Don't. It's Your Gift, To See The Beauty And The Horror In Ordinary Things. It Doesn't Make You Crazy — Just Different. There's Nothing Wrong With Being Different.

You're Just Worried They'll Hire A Male Instructor And He'll Be Hotter Than You." Jace's Eyebrows Went Up. "hotter Than Me?" "it Could Happen," Clary Said, "you Know, Theoretically." "theoretically The Planet Could Suddenly Crack In Half, Leaving Me On One Side And You On The Other, Forever And Tragically Parted, But I'm Not Worried About That Either. Some Things," Jace Said, With His Customary Crooked Smile, "are Just Too Unlikely To Dwell Upon.

You Know That Feeling,” She Said, “when You Are Reading A Book, And You Know That It Is Going To Be A Tragedy; You Can Feel The Cold And Darkness Coming, See The Net Drawing Tight Around The Characters Who Live And Breathe On The Pages. But You Are Tied To The Story As If Being Dragged Behind A Carriage And You Cannot Let Go Or Turn The Course Aside.” His Blue Eyes Were Dark With Understanding — Of Course Will Would Understand.

If You Don’t Go After Luke,” Clary Said, Enunciating Very Clearly, “i, Personally, Will Kill You.” For A Moment Jocelyn Looked Astonished. Then She Smiled. “well,” She Said, “if You Put It Like That.

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