"The archivists head was bald, smooth and white as an egg, darkly indented where his eyes had once been. His lips were crisscrossed with a pattern of dark lines that resembled surgical stitches...  

...his narrow white hands came up to touch her face. The skin of his fingers was thin as parchment paper." 

~City of Bones

"Her mother was hurrying her... piles of heaped and dirty snow. The lowering sky, grey and leaden, rows of black trees stripped bare." ~City of Bones

"She blinked twice before she realized that she was lying on the marble floor, her knees curled up to her chest."

~City of Bones