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Will speechless for once, a glass of water frozen halfway to his lips

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
Glasses
Lips
Water
Speechless
Halfway
Frozen
Glass

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Will gave a short laugh. He was in gear as if he had just come from the practice room, and his hair curled damply against his temples. He was not looking at Tessa, but she had grown used to that. Will hardly ever looked at her unless he had to.
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The sensation of falling was the worst part.
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To marry a girl just to make her a widow,” said Gabriel Lightwood. “Many would say that was not a kindness.
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I can't believe he took you to an actual resteraunt. I assumed his idea od a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends.
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Ah,” said a voice from the doorway, “having your annual ‘everyone thinks Will is a lunatic’ meeting, are you? “It’s biannual,” said Jem. “And no, this is not that meeting.
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While the Clave disapproves of trespassers, oddly they take an even darker view of beheading and skinning people. They're peculiar that way.
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To destroy the enemy it can be necessary to understand him.
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Jem put the full force of himself into each smile, so that he seemed to be smiling with his eyes, his heart, his whole being.
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And he understands. He understands why people hold hands: he’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying This is mine. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.
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Appearances are significant, and never more than in politics. You can always sway the crowd, provided you have a good story.
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In a closed urban fantasy, the magical world is secret and no one knows about it. In an open urban fantasy, everyone knows about it. So with a closed fantasy, you have to figure out how the world keeps itself secret, and with an open one, you have to figure out how knowledge of magic has altered the world we know.
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You're Valentine's son. I'm sure you're the one the Queen really wants to see. Besides, you're charming. Maybe not at the moment.
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Simon!” The voice was Clary’s. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he’d most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. “Simon, you stupid idiot! I’m over here! At the window!” Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.
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You are the central point about which his world spins.
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Lawful good to lawful evil! said Simon, pleased. He's quoting Dungeons and Dragons, said Clary. Ignore him.
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I'm not unhappy, he said. Only people with no purpose are unhappy. I've got a purpose.
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You're not gay, are you? Simon's greenish color deepened. If I were, I would dress better.
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What are you doing here anyway? 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet?
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