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With their hands clasped like children in a fairy tale, she fell asleep beside him in the dark.

Cassandra Clare

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Cassandra Clare
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: July 31
Author
Film Producer
Journalist
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Teheran
Judith Rumelt
Tales
Dark
Hands
Clasped
Children
Beside
Like
Tale
Asleep
Fell
Fairy

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If you don’t go after Luke,” Clary said, enunciating very clearly, “I, personally, will kill you.” For a moment Jocelyn looked astonished. Then she smiled. “Well,” she said, “if you put it like that.
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Jem spoke with enormous care talking to Will about anything personal was like trying not to startle away a wild animal.
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Dudes, He said, Do not follow other dudes to the bathroom. Isabelle sighed. Latent homosexual panic will do you in every time
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Are you going to wolf out and eat me now? Certainly not, you'd be stringy and hard to digest. But kosher. I'll be sure to point any Jewish lycanthropes in your direction.
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Despite everything, I can’t bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more than I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other.
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Still I pictured having you for fifty, sixty more years. I thought I might be ready then to let you go. But it's you, and I realize now that I won't be anymore ready to lose you then than I am right now. Which is not at all.
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All knowledge hurts.
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Are you threatening to kidnap me? If you want to look at it that way, Jace said, yes.
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To her you're Jocelyn's daughter. But I'll always be Valentine's son
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Were you hugging Clary? He looked at Sebastian in amazement. Sebastian shrugged. She's my sister. I'm pleased to see her. You don't hug people, Jace said. I ran out of time to bake a casserole.
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What are you doing here anyway? 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet?
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Regret is such a pointless emotion, don't you agree?
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Only mundanes say they're sorry when what they mean is I share your grief,' Jace observed.
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A date, Jace repeated. Often a 'boring thing you have to memorize in history class, but in this case,' 'an offer of a n evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly.'
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To my son, If you are reading this letter, then I am dead.
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The grandeur of the Institute never failed to impress Magnus - the way it towered high and mighty above everything else, timeless and unmoving in its Gothic disapproval of all that was modern and changeable.
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Love takes your choices away.
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The law is hard but it is the law.
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Why does it take girls so long to shower?” he demanded. “Mortal girls, Shadowhunters, female warlocks, you‘re all the same. I‘m not getting any younger waiting out here.” -Magnus to Clary, pg.272-
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You are the Lightwoods — you are all that is left of the Lightwoods.
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