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To be beautiful you had to be willowy and tall. When you were as short as Clary was, just over five feet, you were cute. Not pretty or beautiful, but cute.

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
Short
Feet
Pretty
Five
Beautiful
Clary
Cute
Tall

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Ragnor and Catarina both begged him to give the instrument up. Random strangers on the street begged him to give the instrument up. Even cats ran away from him.
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Kill me, little sister. Kill me and you kill Jace, too.
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When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw.
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There is more to someone being lovable than the way they look.
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Does she still love you? I don't think so, Magnus said dryly. She wasn't very pleasant the last time I saw her. Of course, that could be because I've got an eighteen year-old boyfriend with a stamina rune and she doesn't. Alec sputtered. As the person being objectified, I ... object to that description of me.
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Your life is yours to live as you choose.
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Love makes liars of us all.
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It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy, just different.
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What is one person's pleasure is another's poison.
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Tessa exhaled. She hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath until that moment. Will must have heard her, for he raised his head and his gaze met hers across the clearing. Something in it made her look away. Agony stripped so raw was not meant for her eyes.
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I wish I could hate you, he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I do hate you and then I see you and I.
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the action we take in the name of love,those are moral or immoral.and normally it wouldn't matter
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And the answer is yes. I have loved you. I always have, and I always will.
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I don't care who her mother is, Magnus said. You can't see me with out an appointment. Come back later. Next March would be good, March? Sebastian looked horrified. You're right, Magnus said, Too rainy. How about June?
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She unwrapped the blanket when she came in my door. You were inside it. She set you down on the floor and you started ranging around, picking things up, pulling my cat's tail—you screamed like a banshee when the cat scratched you, so I asked your mother if you were part banshee. She didn't laugh.
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One of the Silent Brothers is here to see you. Hodge sent me to wake you up. Actually he offered to wake you himself, but since it's 5 a.m., I figured you'd be less cranky if you had something nice to look at. Meaning you? What else?
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If you knew how to cook, maybe I would eat, Jace muttered. Isabelle froze, her spoon poised dangerously. What did you say? Jace edged toward the fridge. I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat. That's what I thought you said. Isabelle turned her attention to the soup.
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Sebastian sighed an exaggerated sigh and swung the door shut. Clary stared at Jace. What the f- Language, Fray. Jace's eyes danced. Relax.
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Doing the right thing because you love someone sucks sometimes.
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I think I may be in love with you, Sophie, said Will. Marriage could be in the cards.
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