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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.
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
Thought
Fifty
Stills
Fallen
Still
Anymore
Might
Realize
Right
Lose
Years
Ready
Realizing
Pictured
Loses
Sixty
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Demon slayers take the subway?
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Everything we need to know is locked up in your head, under those pretty red curls. Clary reached up to touch her hair protectively. I dont think- So what are you going to do? Simon asked sharply. Cut her head open to get at it?
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And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.
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He closed his eyes. “I’m so tired, Tess,” he said. “I only wanted pleasant dreams for once.” “That is not the way to get them, Will,” she said softly. “You cannot buy or drug or dream your way out of pain.
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I love you so much, so incredibly much, he went on, and I forget when you're close to me, I forget who you are. I forget that you're Jem's. I'd have to be the worst sort of person to think what I'm thinking right now. But I am thinking it.
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You might at least believe that I know honor- honor and debt.
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It's not gray, Clary felt compelled to point out. It's green. If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood, said Jace.
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Look, I asked you here for a reason. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common. Totally awesome hair? Simon suggested.
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He put his arms about himself as if he were cold. I do not know who to be without him.
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Not everything Jace did was insane and suicidal, she reminded herself. It just seemed that way. -Clary, pg.46-
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He played of love and loss and years of silence, words unsaid and vows unspoken, and all the spaces between his heart and theirs and when he was done, and he'd set the violin back in its box, Will's eyes were closed, but Tessa's were full of tears.
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I really wish you hadn't worn that sweater,'he muttered into her ear. 'It's good practice for you,' she replied,her lips moving against his skin. 'Tomorrow,fishnets.' Against her side,warm and familiar,she felt him laugh.
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What’s your name, then? ”Tessa looked at him in disbelief. “What’s my name?” “Don’t you know it?
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[...] He tasted like snowflakes and wine, like winter and Will and London.
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Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests.
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I have a fetish for damsels in distress.” “Don’t be sexist.” “Not at all. My services are also available to gentlemen in distress. It’s an equal opportunity fetish.
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Somehow he managed to look cool despite the heat. It made Clary want to smack him.
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Hodge had given up a long time ago trying to live a better life or a different one all he wanted was not to be afraid, and so he was afraid all the time
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Our hearts, they need a mirror, Tessa. We see our better selves in the eyes of those who love us.
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She closed her hands around his and shut her eyes, imagining their bed cut free of this strange prison, floating through space or on the surface of the ocean, just the two of them alone.
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