"I can't believe you tested an unstable spell on your best friend..." "Simon said I could!" "... and I can't believe he was angelic enough for it to work!"

When we open the hotel room to leave, most of my socks and three of my shirts fly in. I'm so happy, I actually hug them.

I am going to die kissing Simon Snow. Alister Crowley, I'm living a charmed life.

Simon. Don't you know how happy we are to find you?

What's gender to a demon?

Simon uses whatever soap I leave in the shower. At first I didn't like it. I wanted him to smell like himself, not me. But he still smells like himself.

(How does a magician fall in love with a centaur? What do they even have in common?)("The top half." Simon said.)

No. You've never kissed me before either.

What a time to realize I should have been watching more 'Friends' reruns.

"Babe..." he says. That's new. That's extraordinarily stupid.

Snow was a wreck at dinner. Which I might have enjoyed if I wasn't so desperate for him to stay.

Looking at you was like looking directly into the sun.

(Fair. Simon's incredibly attractive. Especially when he's being all dogged and earnest like this. With his cheeks pink and his eyebrows drawn low and his throat bobbing every time he fortifies himself to ask a question.)

Maybe this is enough. Simon. Finally. Beside me.

I wonder if I could take the magic from him if I tried, but the thought turns my stomach.

"You're not even gay, Snow." "I am. For all intents and purposes." That makes me laugh. He always gets me in the end.

"Your grandmother throws a fancy tea every time you show your face." "Yeah, but she doesn't have a cake trolley." "Her entire house is a cake trolley."

"Mum says we're to be nice to your friend even if he's stupid." "No–even if he does something stupid." "I'm glad you've been warned."