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Will looking after her, sighed.not for her, he said under his breath, though there was no one to hear him, for me.... And he leaned his head against the cold iron gate.
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
Breaths
Cold
Hear
Sighed
Head
Leaned
Looking
Gate
Though
Gates
Iron
Breath
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Let the sky rain potatoes, said a musing voice. Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves.
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You told us to leave you in the desert, because you planned to start a new life as cactus, Catarina said, her voice flat. Then you conjured up tiny needles and threw them at us. With pinpoint accuracy.
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He will get through this, even if he thinks he won't.
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He’s very pretty. For a human.” “He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was before.
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She looked around. They had drifted far away from the bank of the canal. Are we stealing this boat? Stealing' is such an ugly word, he mused. What do you want to call it? He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. An extreme case of window-shopping.
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It's my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury. (Jace)
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Family is more than blood
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What did Isabelle want? Jace asked. Alec hesitated. Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us. Sure, said Magnus. And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour.
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Church was doing what he often did when dropped - lying on his back with all four legs in the air, pretending to be dead in order to induce guilt in his owners.
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Were you thinking about eating me?
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You ate something yesterday.You sure?asked Simon Jace shrugged.Well,I wouldnt swear on a stack of Bibles.I think it was yesterday,though.
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It's not funny, Jace, Alec interrupted, starting to his feet. Are you just going to let her stand there and call me names? Yes, Jace said kindly. It'll do you good-- try to think of it as endurance training.
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[Magnus] reminded himself of his manners, and bowed. Charmed, he said. Or whatever effect would please you best, I'm sure.
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There is more to someone being lovable than the way they look.
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It is easier to confront a threat as a mass, a group, not individuals who must be evaluated one by one.
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Unhappy? I was lucky. So, so lucky. And I couldn’t see it.” His eyes met hers. “I love you,” he said. “And you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And now that I know what it’s like to be someone else—to lose myself—I want my life back. My family. You. All of it.” His eyes darkened. “I want it back.
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For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again, he may well not be quite as you left him.
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Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.
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You can keep it a secret.... But secrets have their own weight, and it can be a very heavy one.
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Books are for reading, not for turning oneself into livestock.
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