Lethabo

“Is he dead?" he inquired. "He looks dead."
"No," snapped Maryse. "He's not dead."
"Have you checked? I could kick him if you want.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

“Just because you said dragon demons were extinct—"
"I said mostly extinct."
Alec jabbed a finger toward him.
"Mostly extinct," he said, his voice trembling with rage, "is NOT
EXTINCT ENOUGH."
"I see," said Jace. "I'll just have them change the entry in the demonology textbook from 'almost extinct' to 'not extinct enough for Alec. He prefers his monsters really, really extinct.' Will that make you happy?”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

“I don't hate you, Jace."
"I don't hate you, either."
She looked up at him, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that—"
"I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"
Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?"
"What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everything
about how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on a
wall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."
Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

“And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You know that, Jace."
"The Clave can screw itself."
"Jace," Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a change. "Language."
"The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace amended. "It shouldn't necessarily get them all.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass