Cassandra Clare Quote: "Such a fuss ofer a few mundanes." Mrs Dark ..."

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Such a fuss ofer a few mundanes." Mrs Dark chuckled and moved to stand beside her sister, so that Will, with his blazing sword, was between Tessa and both ladies. "We have no quarrel with you, Shadowhunter, unless you choose to pick one. You have invaded our territory and broken the Covenant Law in doing so. We could report you to the Clave-" "While the Clave disapproves of trespassers, oddly, they take an even darker view of beheading and skinning people. They're peculiar that way," Will said
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Such a fuss ofer a few mundanes." Mrs Dark chuckled and moved to stand beside her sister, so that Will, with his blazing sword, was between Tessa and both ladies. "We have no quarrel with you, Shadowhunter, unless you choose to pick one. You have invaded our territory and broken the Covenant Law in doing so. We could report you to the Clave-" "While the Clave disapproves of trespassers, oddly, they take an even darker view of beheading and skinning people. They're peculiar that way," Will said
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Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.

Cassandra Clare Author

They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite

Cassandra Clare Author

There is no pretending," Jace said with absolute clarity. "I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there is life after that, I'll love you then.

Cassandra Clare Author

All knowledge hurts.

Cassandra Clare Author

Don't be upset. Don't listen to me. I only meant that I am jealous of a dark, unconscious element, something irrational, unfathomable. I am jealous of your toilet articles, of the drops of sweat on your skin, of the germs in the air you breathe which could get into your blood and poison you. And I am jealous of Komarovsky, as if he were an infectious disease. Someday he will take you away, just as certainly as death will someday separate us. I know this must seem obscure and confused, but I can't say it more clearly. I love you madly, irrationally, infinitely.

Boris Pasternak Poet

It looks as though your shop is doing well," Luka said gazing around, "Could you help me find a gift for a lady friend of mine?" My heart plunged to my grenn satin slippers, and I had to stare down at Azarte for a minute, petting him hard. Naturally Luka had a "lady friend." She was probably nobly born: the daughter of a count or a duke. I imagined her having thick dark hair and clear skin, and was bitterly jealous. "Of course," I stammered after a time. "What would she like? A gown? A sash?" If she came in for a fitting, I decided to "accidentlly" poke her with every pin.