She hated that little voice inside her head. Like the Seelie Queen, it planted doubts where there shouldn't be doubts, asked questions that had no answer.
All I know is that I love you. And for the first time, that's good enough.
I have a plan." He groaned. "I was afraid of that." "My plans are terrible." "Isabelle's plans are terrible." He pointed a finger at her. " plans are suicidal. At best.
It’s me,” said Jace. “Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.
We’re meant to protect each other, but not from everything. Not from the truth. That’s what it means to love someone but let them be themselves. -Jace Wayland
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 —
Is your inner vampire different from your...outer vampire?' 'Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora.' 'So your inner vampire is Magnus?
Does that mean you agree?" He groaned. "I think it means you crushed my spirit and beat me down." "Fantastic.
Too much of anything could destroy you, Simon thought. Too much darkness could kill, but too much light could blind.
Ah,” said Magnus. “Nerd love. It is a beautiful thing, while also being an object of mockery and hilarity for those of us who are more sophisticated.
He is a Shadowhunter,” said Jocelyn. “His loyalty will be to Clave and Covenant.” “He’s my friend,” said Magnus coldly. “His loyalty is to me.
The only way that we can protect each other is if we are together. If we face things together. If we trust each other.
And to those who would choose the safety of inaction over the danger of taking a stand, I have this to say: You bloody cowards. May you have the world that you deserve.
History, the way the teachers liked it, was a racetrack, a straight shot from start to finish line; life itself was more of a maze.
I tell you Schoonmaker she doesn't know what she has. That's the heart of it. She's like some wild creature who hasn't a clue the worth of its coat.
Henry was thinking of the younger Holland sister of the way she could go from being an impetuous girl to a knowing woman in a few seconds and never lose the stars in her eyes.
Her heart the damned thing had begun to race and she only hoped that the rapid inflation and deflation of her chest wasn't visible beneath her fitted bodice.
What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.
Henry closed his eyes and imagined the sweet petulant woundedness with which she had stared at him on the beach. He felt a little proud that she could love him.
They were all dressed in their finest as though life really were some magical stage play in which every moment ought to be illuminated with its own bright spotlight.
Sometimes I wake up with such an immense sense of disappointment that I can hardly breathe.
