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Don't make it sound like that. Like some ordinary sort of grief. It's not like that. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite. Over. This is a fresh wound every day.

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
Sound
Finite
Every
Fresh
Make
Wounds
Time
Heal
Like
Grief
Ordinary
Presumes
Source
Heals
Sort
Wound

More quotes by Cassandra Clare

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You may choose your friends, but not your unlikely saviors,” Magnus said cheerfully.
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And spare me the jokes about scoring. Dammit, woman, you read my mind, he said. Is there no filthy wordplay you can't forsee? It's my special magical power. I can read your mind when you're thinking dirty thoughts. So, ninety-five percent of the time.
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Take off your shirt. Jace raised his eyebrows. I'm not going to attack you, she said impatiently. I can take the sight of your naked chest without swooning. Are you sure? he asked, obediently sliding the shirt off his shoulders. Because viewing my naked chest has caused many women to seriously injure themselves stampeding to get to
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A sort of good-bye without saying good-bye, he said. It is a reference to a passage in the Bible. 'And Mizpah, for he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another.
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Of course I can see you. I'm not blind, you know. Oh, but you are. You just don't know it.
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Pardon me, but we did not have the time to exchange that kind of personal information, Magnus said. I could not have known! Moreover, I wish to assure both of you that I did not make any amorous advances on female monkeys. he paused and winked. I didn't actually see any, so I never got the chance.
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Magnus got to his feet. “I do believe that's my cue to leave as well,” he said. Clary noticed he was avoiding looking at Alec. “I'd say it's been nice meeting you all, but, in fact, it hasn't. It's been quite awkward, and frankly, the next time I see a single one of you will be far too soon.
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Why is it, little Shadowhunter, that your angels are so cold and without mercy? Why do they break that which will not obey them?
Cassandra Clare
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Will looked horrified. What kind of monster could possibly hate chocolate?
Cassandra Clare
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If only Simon were here. He could probably bore you to sleep.
Cassandra Clare
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Well, you'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm out of commission. (he points to his shirt) Look. Jammies.
Cassandra Clare
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Let the sky rain potatoes, said a musing voice. Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves.
Cassandra Clare
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Tess, Tess, Tessa. Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it—a heart ringing? But when you touch me, that is what it is like, as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.
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Magnus did not like to go near the Hotel Dumont if he could help it. It was decrepit and unsettling, it held bad memories, and it also occasionally held his evil former lady love.
Cassandra Clare
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Bright star,” Magnus said, and his eyes were thoughtful, as if he were remembering something, or someone. “Those of you who are mortal, you burn so fiercely. And you fiercer than most, Will. I will not ever forget you.”.
Cassandra Clare
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It's very advanced of you to have accepted my mortality so fatalistically.
Cassandra Clare
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Nearly unable to bear the thought of how much he needed her quiet strength, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass.
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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.
Cassandra Clare
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Grief makes you feel alone, but you're not. I know you don't believe in-in religion-the same way I do, but you can believe you're surrounded by people who love you, can't you?
Cassandra Clare
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Isabella with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.
Cassandra Clare