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Oh dear, said Jace...I hope that wasn't anything important. It was a sleeping potion, she said angrily, toeing the vial with the tip of a sneaker. And now it's gone. If only Simon were here. He could bore you to sleep.
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
Sleeping
Sneaker
Dear
Potion
Wasn
Angrily
Sleep
Sneakers
Gone
Simon
Hope
Bore
Anything
Bores
Important
Jace
Vial
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I think' she said, choosing her words with care, that any good impulse can be twisted into something evil.
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Unrequited love is a ridiculous state, and it makes those in it behave ridiculously.
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A diary with no drawings of me in it? Where are the torrid fantasies? The romance covers?
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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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Will loved to gallop.
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Tatiana's eyes were huge and poison-green, eyes with enough pain in them to eat away at a world and devour a soul.
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You are the Lightwoods — you are all that is left of the Lightwoods.
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Was that Will? she said finally. Henry arched one ginger eyebrow. Perhaps he's been kidnapped and replaced by an automaton, he suggested. It seems possible... For once Charlotte could only find herself in agreement.
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Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so--disappointed.
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well that's convenient, i guess blessings are easier to come by than i thought. maybe i should ask for blessings on my mission against all those who wear white after labor day
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unfortunately, we're all out of bitter evange at the moment, so it's either tea or nothing
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Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests.
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He speaks of you only with the greatest pride, Will
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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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He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.
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You don't get to decide, she said, where I go, or when. I know. His voice was ragged. I've always known that about you. I don't know why I had to fall in love with someone who's more stubborn than I am.
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I love reading epic fantasies and big fat books and so I really wanted to write one. I think you always write what you want to read.
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