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Someday, Magnus said, looking at the crumpled royal person at his feet, I must write my memoirs.

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
Must
Memoir
Writing
Royal
Someday
Feet
Looking
Write
Crumpled
Persons
Memoirs
Person
Magnus

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They all have always loved you, Will Herondale, for you cannot hide what is good about yourself, however hard you try.
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As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.
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Patriotic?” Will looked smug. “I’ll tell you what’s patriotic,” he said. “In honor of my birthplace, I’ve the dragon of Wales tattooed on my—
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Growing up happens when you start having things you look back on and wish you could change -Clary Fray
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You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.
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Do not seek revenge and call it justice.
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How they loved each other, these three, how they had suffered for each another, and yet how much joy they clearly took from simply being in the same room.
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Wait. Clary was suddenly nervous. The melted metal-it could be, like, toxic or something. Maia snorted. I'm from New Jersey. I born in toxic sludge.
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And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.
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You may have the worst timing since Napoleon decided the dead of winter was the right moment to invade Russia.
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He was the one she was doing all this for, but sometimes she missed him so much it felt like she swallowed broken glass.
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I think you'll find that one would be self-defeating. Jace said lightly shoving his feet into his boots. We are bound, he and I. Cut him and I bleed.
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There was a man who was worthless, and knew he was worthless, and yet however far down he tried to sink his soul, there was always some part of him capable of great action.
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Clary's mother apparently reguarded him as about as sexually threatening as a goldfish.
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She felt as if the world were tilting and she was clinging on helplessly, trying to keep from tumbling into a black abyss.
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You love him as a falcon loves his master who binds and blinds it.
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Luke moved as silently as fog, while Maryse's heels sounded like gunshots on the marble floor. Clary wondered if Isabelle's propensity for unsuitable footwear was genetic.
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I like to listen to music that fits with what I'm writing. For each book, I've assembled a playlist, so readers can get a sense of what I was listening to while I was writing.
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Oh, the universe had outdone herself. The universe would be send flowers.
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Isabelle: Do you want some soup? Jace: No Isabelle: Do you think Hodge will want some soup? Jace: No one wants soup Simon: I want some soup! Jace: No, you don't. You just want to sleep with Isabelle
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