All Lightwoods Look The Same To Me—

She Made A Snorting Noise, Astonishingly Human For A Ghost. " I'ardly Like To Tell You This, Nephilim, But If You Want A Girl To 'ate You, There's Easy Enough Ways Of Making It 'appen. You Don't Need My Help With The Poor Thing." And With That, She Vanished, Spinning Away Into The Mists Among The Graves. Will, Looking After Her, Sighed. "not For Her," He Said, Under His Breath, Though There Was No One To Hear Him, "for Me..." And He Leaned His Head Against The Cold Iron Gate.

Faeries Are Fallen Angels," Said Dorothea, "cast Down Out Of Heaven For Their Pride." "that's The Legend," Jace Said. "it's Also Said That They're The Offspring Of Demons And Angels, Which Always Seemed More Likely To Me. Good And Evil, Mixing Together. Faeries Are As Beautiful As Angels Are Supposed To Be, But They Have A Lot Of Mischief And Cruelty In Them. And You'll Notice Most Of Them Avoid Midday Sunlight—" "for The Devil Has No Power," Said Dorothea Softly, As If She Were Reciting An Old Rhyme, "except In The Dark.

She Seemed Like A Creature Made To Attract Everyone And Express Nothing Real, Though It Would Take A Master Observer, Like Magnus, To Know It.

As Dull As Nate Gray Is," Will Said, "his Head Is Not Actually Filled With Gears, Henry. He's A Human.

It's Because You're Too Scared To Tell Anyone Who You Really Love. Love Makes Us Liars.