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Clary Quote of the day
Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me and will fight with me.
But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Every teenager in the world feels like that, feels broken or out of place, different somehow, royalty mistakenly born into a family of peasants. The difference in your case is that it's true.
We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.
There’s more to honesty than … than an arrangement of words. They say faeries can’t lie, but you lie in your intentions, your attitude, your demeanor —
We had and incident. I took care of it.""Really." Jace's voice dripped sarcasm. "Do you even know how to use that knife, Clarissa? Without poking a hole in yourself or any innocent bystanders?
Jace looked as if she had slapped him. "Why are you determined not to believe us?""Because she loves you, " said Valentine.Clary felt the blood drain out of her face.
Simon snorted. "If you ever meet the man who could take advantage of Isabelle, you'll have to let me know. I'd like to shake his hand. Or run away from him very fast, I'm not sure which.
Jace: Herondale, on the other hand, is melodic. Dulcet, one might say. Think of the sound of 'Clary Herondale.'Clary: Oh, my god, that sounds horrible.Jace: We all must sacrifice for love.
Watching Jace hug Isabelle, she tried to school her features into a happy and loving expression."Are you all right?" Simon asked, with some concern. "Your eyes are crossing.
Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor, and he smells like windex.""At least you know he's still available.
We’re meant to protect each other, but not from everything. Not fromthe truth. That’s what it means to love someone but let them be themselves.-Jace Wayland
For the first time, he looked at her, and she wasn’t a stranger, she was Clary—his friend. His family. The girl he’d sworn always to protect. The girl he loved as fiercely as he loved himself.
It's her ability as an artist to see possibility where others see a blank page and, by extension, to see victory where others see certain defeat that truly empowers her...
It's not gray, " Clary felt compelled to point out. "It's green.""If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood, " said Jace.