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His hands slipped from his throat, and he crashed to the ground like a tree falling. Oh, dear, said Pangborn, gazing at the fallen body of his comrade with fastidious distaste. How unpleasant.
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
Dear
Slipped
Tree
Comrade
Fall
Gazing
Hands
Unpleasant
Body
Throat
Like
Fallen
Fastidious
Falling
Crashed
Ground
Distaste
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Having rock-star problems may be the closest I ever get to being an actual rock star.
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You can tell me to stop any time you want, but you won't.
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We live and breathe words.
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But you have to learn to bend a little, said Clary with a yawn. Despite the story's content, the rhythm of Jace's voice had made her sleepy. Or you'll break. Not if your strong enough, said Jace firmly. He reached out, and she felt the back of his hand brush her cheek.
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Jordan followed, buttoning his jeans and muttering about how there was nothing strange about having a pattern of dancing penguins on your underwear.
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Their grandchildren had reminded Will of the song about demon pox he had taught them- when they were much too young, Tessa had always thought- and that they had all memorized. They sang it all together and out of tune, scandalizing Sophie.
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Love and lies can corrupt even the purest heart.
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So it's true. You can walk in sunlight. I thought perhaps it might have worn off. If I feel the urge to burst into flames, I'll let you know.
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D'you think he would have thought ahead like that? said Henry. Assuredly, said Will. The man's a strategist. He tapped his temple. Like me.
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...We die, we turn, we are reborn as we deserve to be reborn, based on our doings in this world. Will looked down at his bitten nails. I will probably be reborn as a slug that someone salts.
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I don’t think Will Herondale and a sense of responsibility are even on speaking terms
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Pain is only what you allow it to be
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He remembered Simon warning him, with wryness, that Clary had the nuclear bomb of boyfriends.
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Not everyone wants you all the time, Jace, he said. Don't be ridiculous.
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Right. Vampires. But how do they get inside? They fly ... We dont fly, Clary felt impelled to point out. No, Jace agreed. We dont fly. We break and enter. ... Flying sounds like more fun. -Clary & Jace, pg.258-
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Jem drew back from her, looking dazed. By the Angel, he said. Perhaps we do need a chaperon.
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And Jessamine-Jessamine was gazing at her in abject horror, like someone who has seen a vision of their own ghost. For a moment Tessa felt a stab of guilt. It lasted only a moment, though. Slowly Jessamine lowered her hand from her mouth, her face still very pale. Goodness, my nose is enormous, she exclaimed. Why didn't anyone tell me?
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Don't. Clary raised a warning hand. I'm not really in the mood right now. That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me, Jace mused.
Cassandra Clare
There are ways in which we’re so alike. We’re reckless. We don’t think before we act. We’ll do anything for people we love. And I never thought how scary that was for the people who loved me until I saw
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Magnus's eyes went back to Alec. They were gold-green, as unreadable as the eyes of the cat he held on his lap. Not my favorite topic, Smedley. Simon, said Simon. If I'm going to die for you all, the least you could do is remember my name.
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