I don't want to be a man," said Jace. "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.""Well," said Luke, "you're doing a fantastic job.

Luke is the sort of boy Taylor Swift could get at least three songs out of.

I brought you some coffee.” he held out the cup but she waved it away.“I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet.”At that he smiled. “How would you know what feet taste like?”“I just know.”-Luke and Clary, pg.209-

I glanced over to where Seth looked like he wanted to bang his head against the wall. “Hey.”The blond continued to smile, while his friend continued to stare at me.Seth sighed again. “The one grinning like he’s crazy is Deacon, and the other one is Luke.”“We’re friends of his—of Seth’s,” Deacon threw in, and Seth did not look like they were friends.“This is Josie,” Seth continued. “Please don’t be weird and scare her.”“Be weird?” Deacon rolled those gray eyes. “Ha. Whatever, dude. All you need to know about me is that I’m like a dolphin in a sea of less-smart fish,” he announced, spreading his arms with a flourish.Luke turned to him slowly as his eyebrows inched up his forehead. “What?”He shrugged. “Just saying I have a lot in common with dolphins. They’re smart. I’m smart.”Seth rubbed his hand down his face.

The true Epicurean cultivates the capacity to take pleasure in simple things, while those around him chase pleasure in more things.

But this does not take away the fact that Luke sees the frustrations women face, including the constant discipline of being quietly useful while others crowd in to take the more obviously attractive roles. Furthermore, he remembers Jesus as a teacher who was willing to recognize the value of women's contribution. Working in partnership with a man also protected the women from being bothered by other men who resented their independent activity or simply wanted to meddle. For the women of Galilee, Jesus was invaluable as a sympathetic male focal point around which their activity could be organized. The presence of such a person in their midst would have been a godsend even if the man in question had not been a miracle-worker.

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.

The brief story of the supper at Emmaus carries within it a number of core principles of the Christian life as Luke understands it. First, the idea that one comes to know Christ through acts of generosity to other human beings. It is because of their kindness to a stranger that the disciples find the beloved teacher whom they had lost. Second, there is the idea that they can conjure his presence in prayer and in communal acts such as the breaking of bread - by remembering his life, death, and resurrection - even in an undistinguished house in an anonymous village. The simple acts of generosity and community in daily life are the acts that make real the living presence of Jesus.

I found it impossible with his mouth so close to me, his lips being so fantastic and my eyes dropped to them again.They were fine.I licked my lips.“Ava.”My eyes drifted back to his and I was in a Luke Lip Fog. “Yeah?”“You lick your lips while looking at my mouth one more time, you’ll find that pretty pink tongue of yours in my mouth.

I'll cover you in flowers someday, Julie-girl.

... We are Nephilim; we fight our own battles." "That's not precisely true, is it?" said a velvety voice. It was Magnus Bane, wearing a long and glittering coat, multiple hoops in his ears, and a roguish expression. Clary had no idea where he'd come from. "You lot have used the help of warlocks on more than one occasion in the past, and paid handsomely for it too." Malachi scowled. "I don't remember the Clave inviting you into the Glass City, Magnus Bane." "They didn't," Magnus said. "Your wards are down." "Really?" the Consul's voice dripped sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed." Magnus looked concerned. "That's terrible. Someone should have told you." He glanced at Luke. "Tell him the wards are down.

Studying him then, it was hard not to notice how handsome Luke was, a fact that that most of the girls hadn't missed either. To their delight, his almost OCD obsession with having his hair no more than several inches long meant he regularly asked them to trim his sandy brown hair with nail scissors. An honour they held rock, paper, scissor tournaments for. It was all very serious stuff.

Never underestimate the power of telling a teenage boy he's risking his chances of getting laid. Works almost every time.

Same. I don't like to think I might have ended up in Plumber's gang, but given the alternative..."I raised both eyebrows. "Yeah. Drug-dealers or super-powered psychopaths? Choices, choices.

We will take a few moments and make fun of religious people, and we do this in love. No, we do, because we love to make fun of religious people.

You will stay and help defend our cave against all comers, protect those weaker than yourself and honor our code. Always use the sword to stand for good and right, never do a thing you would be ashamed of, and never let your heart rule your mind ... And never let another creature take this sword from you, not as long as you live. When the time comes, pass it on to another, maybe your own son. You will know instinctively if he is a warrior. If not, hide the sword where only a true warrior who is brave of heart would dare to go and find it. Swear this to me, Martin.

Blood trickled from the corner of her (Annabeth) mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."Luke stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise." Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth . . ." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's. He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding. . . ." He gasped again."He's changing. Help. He's . . . he's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please—""The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero . . . cursed blade . . ."Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands."Please, Percy . . ."Luke seemed to know what I was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can . . . can keep him controlled."I raised the knife to strike. Then I looked at Annabeth, at Grover. And I finally understood what she'd been trying to tell me. You are not the hero, Rachel had said. It will affect what you do. The line from the great prophecy echoed in my head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. My whole world tipped upside down,and I gave the knife to Luke.I watched as Luke grasped the hilt he stabbed himself

I turned and faced the Olympians."We need a shroud," I announced, my voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes.

We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.

The stems stood tall and straight, one series arranged in a single line, the other in a crudely shaped heart, the final one in the shape of the letter U. I love you.