Cassandra Clare Quotes

If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have asked.

I suppose you don't have much time for enjoying music," Clary said, thinking of Simon, for whom music was his entire life, "in your line of work."
He shrugged. "Maybe the occasional wailing chorus of the damned.

I always thought cab drivers didn't pay attention to traffic, but this is ridiculous,

Oh-Simon!"
"No, I'm Jace," said Jace patiently. "Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense.

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.

He cut his glance toward Jace, who was walking a few paces ahead of them, apparently conversing with the cat. Clary wondered what they were talking about. Politics? Opera? The high price of tuna?

I thought it'd be something cooler, like a van with 'Death to Demons' painted on the outside, or . . .

He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either,

Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium. After I spent the past three days wondering if you were dead."
"I was not shacking up," Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face.
"And my hair is naturally blond," said Jace. "Just for the record.

I've never asked, but I'm sure he has a fairly stringent policy about random teenagers lurking in his shrubbery.

If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy, you'd be twice as funny as you are.

Well there goes my plan for selling them on eBay," Clary muttered.
"Selling them on what?"
Clary smiled blandly at him. "A mythical place of great magical power.

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

You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me."
"I was ninety percent sure."
"I see," Clary said.
There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hand to his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?"
"The other ten percent.

Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie.