Cassandra Clare Quotes

If you're calling me up just to chat, mundane, you must be lonelier than I thought.

Hodge sent me to wake you up. Actually, he offered to wake you up himself, but since it's five a.m., I figured you'd be less cranky if you had something nice to look at.

Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side.

I'll just have them change the entry in the demonology textbook from 'almost extinct' to 'not extinct enough for Alec. He prefers his monsters really, really extinct.' Will that make you happy?

Well you'll have to wait 'til tomorrow. I'm out of commission." He pointed at himself. "Look. Jammies.

Faeries have no sense of humor."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. There's a pixie nightclub downtown called Hot Wings. Not that I have ever been there.

"I am a man" he told her, "and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone woman, and bring me something brown."

We live and breathe words. .... It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt — I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted — and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.

I really was sick. I swear. I almost died back there on the ship, you know."
"I know. Every time you almost die, I almost die myself.

Ah,” said a voice from the doorway, “having your annual ‘everyone thinks Will is a lunatic’ meeting, are you?
“It’s biannual,” said Jem. “And no, this is not that meeting.

I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners.

A picnic? It's a little late for Central Park, don't you think? It's full of-"
He waved a hand. "Faeries. I know."
"I was going to say muggers," said Clary. "Though I pity the mugger who goes after you.

Brother Zachariah. Months January through December of the Hot Silent Brothers Calendar.

Will rose slowly to his feet. He could not believe he was doing what he was doing, but it was clear that he was, clear as the silver rim around the black of Jem’s eyes. “If there is a life after this one,” he said, “let me meet you in it, James Carstairs.”

“There will be other lives.” Jem held his hand out, and for a moment, they clasped hands, as they had done during their parabatai ritual, reaching across twin rings of fire to interlace their fingers with each other. “The world is a wheel,” he said. “When we rise or fall, we do it together.”

Will tightened his grip on Jem’s hand, which felt thin as twigs in his. “Well, then,” he said, through a tight throat, “since you say there will be another life for me, let us both pray I do not make as colossal a mess of it as I have this one.

My rapier wit hides my inner pain.