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Jace knew he was being cruel, and he barely cared. Hurting people he loved was almost as good as hurting himself when he was in this kind of mood.

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
Kind
Barely
Good
Jace
People
Cruel
Mood
Loved
Knew
Hurt
Hurting
Almost
Cared

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I love you, Tessa, and I have loved you, almost since the moment I met you.
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And there are vampires, too? Werewolves, warlocks, all that stuff? Clary gnawed her lower lip. So I hear. And you kill them, too? Simon asked, directing the question to Jace, who had put the stele back in his pocket and was examining his flawless nails for defects. Only when they've been naughty.
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It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.
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He speaks of you only with the greatest pride, Will
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Will: Nice place to live, isn't it? Let's hope they left something behind other than filth. Forwarding addresses, a few severed limbs, a prostitute or two ... Jem: Indeed. Perhaps, if we're fortunate, we can still catch syphilis. Or demon pox, Will suggested cheerfully, trying the door under the stairs.
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There was something about Jace, though, that made her want to push him, crack that shell of cynicism and make him admit her believed something, felt something, cared about anythinng at all.
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Were you thinking about eating me?” Will inquired. “No!” “No one would blame you,” said Jem. “He’s very annoying.
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I suppose you've always been amazing at this stuff? I was born amazing Jace stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingertips, lightly but enough to make her shiver.
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If you were half as funny as you think you are, you'd be twice as funny as you are now.
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That sounds terrific, thought Cary, just you, your comatose wife your shell-shocked son, and your daughter who hates your guts. Not to mention that your two kids may be in love with each other. Yeah, that sounds like a perfect family reunion.
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A diary with no drawings of me in it? Where are the torrid fantasies? The romance covers?
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Where did you get that? Jace looked down and saw that the spider demon's poison had eaten a hole in his shirt, leaving a good deal of his left shoulder bare. The shirt? At Macy's Winter sale.
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One of the things he'd always loved about Clary was how easily caught up in her imagination she was, how easily she could wall herself away in illusory worlds of curses and princes and destiny and magic.
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Rule number one of anime, Simon said. He sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans that were ripped in one knee. Never screw with a blind monk.
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They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite
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Heroes aren't always the ones who win. They're the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don't give up. That's what makes them heroes.
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She is fine. She hates us both but it really didn't sound like anything else was wrong
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If no one cares for you at all, do you even really exist?
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