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Will’s hand looked brown and sunburnt by contrast, their fingers dovetailed together like piano keys.

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
Like
Brown
Piano
Fingers
Keys
Looked
Hand
Hands
Together
Contrast

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There was an electric anger in his gaze, and a sort of challenge that made Simon long to hit him with something heavy. Like a pickup truck.
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And I would do it again. I love you, Jace Wayland-Herondale-Lightwood-whatever you want to call yourself. I don't care. I love you and I will always love you, and pretending it could be any other ways is just a waste of time.
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Magnus's eyes gleamed. He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.
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Memories did one no good, not when one knew the truth in the present. Will was beautiful, but he was not hers he was anybody's. Something in him was broken, and trough that break spilled a blind cruelty, a need to hurt and to push away.
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Every time you almost die, I almost die myself.
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Words were weapons, his father had taught him that, and he'd wanted to hurt Clary more than he'd ever wanted to hurt any girl. In fact, he wasn't sure he had ever wanted to hurt a girl before. Usually he just wanted them, and then he wanted them to leave him alone.
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I saw Jonathan after he faced the fear demon, you know. It showed itself to him as you. That told me all I needed to know. The greatest fear in Jonathan’s life is the love he feels for his sister.
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There is nothing quite like the moral absolutism of the young. -Hodge
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Do you miss Wales?” Tessa inquired. Will shrugged lightly. “What’s to miss? Sheep and singing,” he said. “And the ridiculous language. Fe hoffwn i fod mor feddw, fyddai ddim yn cofio fy enw.” “What does that mean?” “It means ‘I wish to get so drunk I no longer remember my own name,’ Quite useful.
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Jace, There is no wedding! Stop Isabelle! Sit on her if you have to. Just stop her from doing whatever she's doing or I can never come home. -Alec
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Have you fallen in love with the wrong person yet?' Jace said, Unfortunately, Lady of the Haven, my one true love remains myself. ...At least, she said, you don't have to worry about rejection, Jace Wayland. Not necessarily. I turn myself down occasionally, just to keep it interesting.
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endless hope, endless disappointment.
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And in some way, Clary thought, he meant it, meant his gratitude. He had long ago lost the ability to distinguish between force and cooperation, between fear and willingness, between love and torture. And with that realization came a rush of numbness—what was the point of hating Valentine for being a monster when he didn’t even know he was one?
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Whoever loves you now—and you must also love yourself—will love the truth of you.
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Demon pox. There's always demon pox.
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Interesting he said. You know, Simon never mentioned that his roommate was a werewolf.
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With God on your side, what does luck matter?
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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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Maybe Alexander Lightwood would not break his heart.
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I have important business to get to. I plan to sulk all afternoon, followed, perhaps, by an evening of Byronic brooding and a nighttime of dissipation.
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