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Shutting your eyes and pretending something's not happening doesn't make it not true, Jace.

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
True
Shutting
Something
Jace
Make
Pretending
Happenings
Happening
Eyes
Eye
Doesn

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There's always the dinner rolls, said Will, pointing to a covered basket. Though I warn you, they're as hard as stones. You could use them to kill black beetles, if any beetles bother you in the middle of the night.
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You can see where it was, years ago. Like an old woman who was once beautiful, but time has taken her beauty away.
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It's my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury. (Jace)
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He has fought many battles with us (Jace) By which you mean one battle muttered Simon. Two if you count the one I was a rat
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For free will is what makes us Heaven's creatures.
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Will speechless for once, a glass of water frozen halfway to his lips
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There was a man once who said that mothers carry the key of our souls with them all our lives. But you threw mine away
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aren't you, uh... reproducing? sure, we love reproducing it's one of our favorite things.
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Will spread his arms wide. On his knees, grinning like a demon, blood dripping from his mouth, he barely looked human himself. “Come and get me.
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When I was a little kid, I realized that if you say any word over and over fast enough, it loses all it's meaning.
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I have lost everything. Lost everything. Everything. - William Herondale
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Dear me, said Will, and he took another bite of his apple. Is it because I'm better-looking than you?
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[Magnus] reminded himself of his manners, and bowed. Charmed, he said. Or whatever effect would please you best, I'm sure.
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[Jem] 'It will help you sleep.' 'All I’ve been doing is sleeping!' [Tessa] 'And very amusing it is to watch, said Jem. 'Did you know you twitch your nose when you sleep, like a rabbit?' 'I do not,' she said, with a whispered laugh. 'You do,' he said. 'Fortunately, I like rabbits.
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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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And there are vampires, too? Werewolves, warlocks, all that stuff? Clary gnawed her lower lip. So I hear. And you kill them, too? Simon asked, directing the question to Jace, who had put the stele back in his pocket and was examining his flawless nails for defects. Only when they've been naughty.
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His hands slipped from his throat, and he crashed to the ground like a tree falling. Oh, dear, said Pangborn, gazing at the fallen body of his comrade with fastidious distaste. How unpleasant.
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The only alternative seems to be doing nothing…and doing nothing, I find, rarely accomplishes anything
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With the whole Mark of Cain thing, does that mean if I accidentally kick you during the night, I get kicked in the shins seven times by an invisible force?
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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.
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