Quote

Filters are for cigarrettes and coffee, Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. Two things I could use right now, incidentally.

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
Filters
Two
Simon
Right
Breath
Things
Breaths
Coffee
Inside
Incidentally
Went
Muttered
Use

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And I do wish she wouldn't sing about poisoning just after we have eaten.
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If you were half as funny as you think you are, you'd be twice as funny as you are now.
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Will’s hand looked brown and sunburnt by contrast, their fingers dovetailed together like piano keys.
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What's wrong, little sis? You look upset. She could barely catch her breath. Cracked...my...nail polish slapping your... worthless face. See? She showed him her finger - just one of them. Cute He snorted.
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You know, when someone prefers their own brother over you, it isn't a confidence booster.
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The light that burned twice as bright burned half as long.
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Isabelle: All the boys are gay. In this van, anyway. Well, except for you, Simon. Simon: Glad you noticed. Magnus: I prefer to think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual. Alec: Please never say that in front of my parents.
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I love round tables. They suit me so much better than a square.
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How can you tell? That I like books, I mean. The look on your face when you walked in, somehow I doubted you were that impressed by me.
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Funny isn’t it?” said Sebastian. “The lies good people tell. He’ll probably make you eggs every day for the rest of your life now, and you’ll choke them down because you can’t tell him you don’t like them.” Clary thought of the Seelie Queen. “Love makes liars of us all?
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I was looking for the opposite, really -something that might put an end to being in love
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He saved your life,” Clary pointed out. “Details,” said Simon dismissively.
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You point your feet out too much when you walk,” Will went on. He was busy polishing an apple on his shirtfront, and appeared not to notice Tessa glaring at him. “Camille walks delicately. Like a faun in the woods. Not like a duck” “I do not walk like a duck.” “I like ducks,” Jem observed diplomatically. “Especially the ones in Hyde Park.
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It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's like a million little paper cuts every day.
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Will: I say we sell her to the Gypsies on Hampstead Heath. I hear they puchase spare women as well as hoses. Charlotte: Will, stop it. That's ridivulous. Will:You're right. They'd never buy her. Too scrawny.
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Far below ran the silver ribbon of the East River, braceleted by shining bridges, flecked by boats as small as flyspecks, splitting the shining banks of light that were Manhattan and Brooklyn on either side.
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They landed at Simon's feet. Take your clothes and go! Isabelle shouted.
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Maybe that was why she couldn't cry, she realized, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling. Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?
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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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Will speechless for once, a glass of water frozen halfway to his lips
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