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Will! Charlotte threw up her hands. Why didn't you say so? You know, the books on demon pox are in the library, Will said with an injured tone. I wasn't preventing anyone from reading them

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
Wasn
Pox
Books
Charlotte
Anyone
Preventing
Reading
Threw
Didn
Injured
Hands
Demon
Book
Tone
Library

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Like letting spiders live because they eat mosquitoes, Clary thought. So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with-but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people.
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And therefor, said Magnus We must go. Will blinked at him. Go where? Don't worry about that right now, my love. Will blinked again. Pardon?
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Every time you almost die, I almost die myself.
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Their grandchildren had reminded Will of the song about demon pox he had taught them- when they were much too young, Tessa had always thought- and that they had all memorized. They sang it all together and out of tune, scandalizing Sophie.
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I curse you, it said. All who love you will die. Their love will be their destruction. It may take moments, it may take years, but any who look upon you with love will die of it, unless you remove yourself from them forever. And I shall begin it with her. It snarled in Ella’s direction, and vanished.
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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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Those girls on the other side of the car are staring at you. Of course they are, he said. I am stunningly attractive.
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Tess?” A soft voice at the door she looked up and saw Will there, silhouetted in the light from the corridor.
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The great thing about writing for a younger audience is that they will give it to you straight with their responses. They'll tell you exactly what they liked and didn't like, and when they're enthusiastic, they're unashamedly enthusiastic. They'll talk to you about your characters as if they were real people, which is wonderful.
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I can tell you that the end of life is the some of the love that was lived in it.
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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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Lawful good to lawful evil! said Simon, pleased. He's quoting Dungeons and Dragons, said Clary. Ignore him.
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What I do know is that if we are born again, I will meet you in another life, and if there is a river, you will wait on the shores for me to come to you, so that we can cross together.
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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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I was just wondering if you were armed. You want anything? Dagger, maybe? He opened his own suit jacket just a bit, and Simon saw something long an metallic glinting against the inside lining. No wonder you and Jace like each other so much. You're both crazy walking arsenals.
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Speaking of hope, did you see that shot Alec got off with his bow? That's my boyfriend. He beamed and wiggled his fingers blue sparks shot from them. He shone all over. Only Magnus, Simon thought resignedly, would have access to sequined battle armor.
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So John took out of his pocket A knife both long and sharp, And stuck it through his brother's heart, And the blood came pouring down. Says John to William, Take off thy shirt, And tear it from gore to gore, And wrap it round your bleeding heart, And the blood will pour no more.
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Inanimate objects are harmless indeed, Mr. Mortmain. But one cannot always say the same of the men who use them.
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I forgot, Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. Faeries have no sense of humor. Oh, I wouldn't say that, said Jace. There's a pixie nightclub downtown called Hot Wings. Not, he added, that I have ever been there.
Cassandra Clare
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And I think that you do not understand that sometimes the only choice is between acceptance and madness.
Cassandra Clare