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I want to kiss you one more time before I die.
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
Kiss
Kissing
Dies
Time
More quotes by Cassandra Clare
Yech, said Simon. Don't 'yech' me. You're the one with the magical spit.
Cassandra Clare
It would be one thing if I had been cursed so that everyone I loved would die, said Will. I could keep myself from loving. To keep others from caring for me--it is an odd, exhausting procedure.
Cassandra Clare
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
Must I go bound while you go free Must I love a manwho doesn't love me Must I be born with so little art As to love a man who'll break my Heart
Cassandra Clare
He was a vampire now. He was supposed to have eternity. But what he had was days.
Cassandra Clare
The witchlight made his skin paler, his eyes more intently blue. They were the color of the water in the North Atlantic, where the ice drifted on its blue-black surface like the snow clinging to the dark glass pane of a window.
Cassandra Clare
You have to give everyone ugly motives for everything they do, because ugly motives are all you understand.
Cassandra Clare
When you love someone, you don't have a choice. Love takes your choices away. - Clary Fray
Cassandra Clare
Something inside Clary cracked and broke, and words came pouring out. 'What do you want me to tell you? The truth? The truth is that I love Simon like I should love you, and I wish he was my brother and you weren't, but I can't do anything about that and neither can you!
Cassandra Clare
The melody rolled over her, as cool and sweet as water, as hopeful and lovely as sunrise.
Cassandra Clare
“He has many things I haven’t got,” said Jace. “Like nearsightedness, bad posture, and an appalling lack of coordination.” - Jace about Simon
Cassandra Clare
[Jem] looked from Will to Tessa and raised his silvery eyebrows. A miracle, he said. You got him to speak. Just to shout at me, really, said Tessa. Not quite loaves and fishes.
Cassandra Clare
But you have to learn to bend a little, said Clary with a yawn. Despite the story's content, the rhythm of Jace's voice had made her sleepy. Or you'll break. Not if your strong enough, said Jace firmly. He reached out, and she felt the back of his hand brush her cheek.
Cassandra Clare
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.
Cassandra Clare
She turned to look at Sebastian, lying on the bed. He was shirtless, and even in the dim light the old whip weals across his back were visible. She had always been fascinated by Shadowhunters but had never thought she would find one whose personality she could stand for more than five minutes, until Sebastian.
Cassandra Clare
She looked around. They had drifted far away from the bank of the canal. Are we stealing this boat? Stealing' is such an ugly word, he mused. What do you want to call it? He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. An extreme case of window-shopping.
Cassandra Clare
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?
Cassandra Clare
Despite everything, I can’t bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more than I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other.
Cassandra Clare
Has there ever been an Inquisitor who didn't die a horrible death? Simon wondered out loud. It's like being the drummer in Spinal Tap.
Cassandra Clare
Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.
Cassandra Clare