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We are responsible for protecting Tessa!

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
Tessa
Protecting
Responsible

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I have a feeling you're right, Sherwin.' 'Simon. My name is Simon.
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There was something peculiarly gratifying about shouting in a blind rage until your words ran out. Of course, the aftermath was less pleasant. Once you'd told everyone you hated them and not to come after you, where exactly did you go?
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I do not walk like a duck.
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She closed her hands around his and shut her eyes, imagining their bed cut free of this strange prison, floating through space or on the surface of the ocean, just the two of them alone.
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If I held a revolver to your head, James, and pulled the trigger, would it really matter if I did not know that there were not bullets in the chambers?
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Goodness, my nose is enormous,' she exclaimed. 'Why didn't anyone tell me?
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Look, I asked you here for a reason. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common. Totally awesome hair? Simon suggested.
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A date, Jace repeated. Often a 'boring thing you have to memorize in history class, but in this case,' 'an offer of a n evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly.'
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Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I got lost in the crowd.” “I noticed,” he said. “One second I was dancing with you, and the next you were gone and a very persistent werewolf was trying to get the buttons on my jeans undone.” Sebastian chuckled. “Girl or boy werewolf?” “Not sure. Either way, they could have used a shave.
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Perhaps he's in love with Agatha, she said. I hope not. I intend to marry Agatha myself. She may be a thousand years old, but she makes an incomparable jam tart. Beauty fades, but cooking is eternal.
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You told us to leave you in the desert, because you planned to start a new life as cactus, Catarina said, her voice flat. Then you conjured up tiny needles and threw them at us. With pinpoint accuracy.
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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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Unhappy? I was lucky. So, so lucky. And I couldn’t see it.” His eyes met hers. “I love you,” he said. “And you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And now that I know what it’s like to be someone else—to lose myself—I want my life back. My family. You. All of it.” His eyes darkened. “I want it back.
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Tessa looked quickly to Will, but he only crossed the room as he always did to lean against the fireplace mantel. Cecily had never been able to decide if he did this because he was perpetually cold or because he thought he looked dasing standing before the leaping flames.
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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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They were frightening enough, but Tessa could not help but feel that if Will were there, he would have commented that they looked like turnips, and perhaps made up a song about it.
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But I will never have a bride.
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Not all that is mortal is useless.
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He flushed, the colour dark against his pale skin. 'I mean. Tessa Gray, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?' Jem.
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