Quote

Maybe he's lonely. Sebastian can't be the greatest company. We don't know that. He could be absolutely fantastic at Scrabble, said Magnus.

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
Maybe
Company
Scrabble
Sebastian
Magnus
Fantastic
Lonely
Absolutely
Greatest

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Reparations,” said Jem very suddenly, setting down the pen he was holding. Will looked at him in puzzlement. “Is this a game? We just blurt out whatever word comes next to mind? In that case mine is ‘genuphobia’. It means an unreasonable fear of knees.” “What’s the word for a perfectly reasonable fear of annoying idiots?” inquired Jessamine.
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It is not the same thing to be good and to be kind.
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You snuck up on me,” she said. “I guess I’m not much of a Shadowhunter, huh?” Simon shrugged. “Well, in your defense, I do move with a silent, pantherlike grace.
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Niches set back in the walls contained polished marble statues of entwined bodies. Will looked away from them hastily, and then back. It wasn't as if Magnus seemed to be paying attention to what Will was doing, and he'd honestly never imagined two people could get themselves into a position like that, much less make it look artistic.
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How can you not care? Practice, Magnus said, looking back to his book and turning the page.
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I've got the Mark of Cain, said Simon. That means nothing can kill me, right? You can kill yourself, Magnus said, somewhat unhelpfully. As far as I know, inanimate objects can accidentally kill you. So if you were planning on teaching yourself the lambada on a greased platform over a pit full of knives, I wouldn't. There goes my Sa
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He bent down to her their mouths met again, and the shock of sensation was so strong, so overpowering, that she shut her eyes against it as if she could hide in the darkness. He murmured and gathered her against him.
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And what if I'm the one who kills him? My heart is your heart, he said, My hands are your hands.
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Jace slammed his hand down on the stele. “Clary-“ “She said she doesn’t want it,” said Simon. “Ha-ha.” “Ha-ha?” Jace looked incredulous. “That’s your comeback?
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The light that burned twice as bright burned half as long.
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We’re Nephilim. Every one of our life’s passages has some mystical component — our births, our deaths, our, marriages, everything has a ceremony and a rune. There is one as well if you wish to become someone’s parabatai. It’s no small commitment.
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Take my hands,” Alec said. “And take my strength too. Whatever of it you can use to— to keep yourself going.
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There is no cure for fictional character love, but the plus side is that it is an entirely benign disease with no bad side effects.
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It was a bit warm. Still. If one could look this fabulous, one had an obligation to. One should wear everything, or one should wear nothing at all.
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A lot of people feel like urban fantasy is a shortcut that gets you around world-building, because it's set in the real world. But it doesn't really work that way, as I found out. You have to come up with just as consistent an internal cosmology and magic system as you would if you were writing high fantasy.
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I swear that woman had a previous career as a death-hunter selling tragic ballads down around the Seven Dials, said Will. And I do wish she wouldn't sing about poisoning just after we've eaten.
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Shotgun! announced Clary as Jace came back around the side of the van. Alec grabbed for his bow, strapped across his back. Where? She means she wants the front seat, said Jace, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.
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Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me and will fight with me.
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For free will is what makes us Heaven's creatures.
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[...] He tasted like snowflakes and wine, like winter and Will and London.
Cassandra Clare