Cassandra Clare - Clary Quotes

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Words were weapons, his father had taught him that, and he'd wanted to hurt Clary more than he'd ever wanted to hurt any girl. In fact, he wasn't sure he had ever wanted to hurt a girl before. Usually he just wanted them, and then he wanted them to leave him alone.

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There is that. I might have better luck telling him I'm in love with him. Jace thinks everyone's in love with him anyway. But I, said Clary, actually am.

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Clary grinned at Luke. So you're not moving to Idris, I take it? Nah, he said. He looked as happy as she'd ever seen him. The pizza here is terrible.

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I'm here," she said, skidding to a stop. "Can we go now?" Sebastian insisted on helping her on with the coat. "I don't think anyone's ever helped me with my coat before," Clary observed, freeing the hair that had gotten trapped under her collar. "Well, maybe waiters. Were you ever a waiter?" "No, but I was brought up by a Frenchwoman," Sebastian reminded her. "It involves an even more rigorous course of training.

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Clary, you're an artist, like your mother. That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy — just different. There's nothing wrong with being different.

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Clary? Jace tilted his head to the side, studying her face. You do—you still love me, don't you? I love Jace Lightwood, she said. I don't know who you are.

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Why don't we talk about your love life? Clary countered. "What about you and Alec?" "Alec refuses to acknowledge that we have a relationship, and so I refuse to acknowledge him. He sent me a fire message asking for a favor the other day. It was addressed to 'Warlock Bane' as if I were a perfect stranger. He's still hung up on Jace, I think, though that relationship will never go anywhere. A problem I imagine you know nothing about...

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When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw...

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Magnus looked at her meditatively. 'I think,' he said, 'there isn't much that Jace wouldn't do for you, if you asked him.' Clary opened her mouth and then shut it again. She thought of the way Magnus had always seemed to know how Alec felt about Jace, how Simon felt about her. Her feelings for Jace must be written on her face even now, and Magnus was an expert reader. She glanced away.

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Jordan doesn't really care about the blood," Simon said now. "His whole thing is about me being comfortable with what I am. Get in touch with your inner vampire, blah, blah." Clary slid in next to him onto the bed and hugged a pillow. "Is your inner vampire different from your...outer vampire?" "Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora. I'm fighting it." Clary smiled faintly. "So your inner vampire is Magnus?

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Part of Clary wanted to lean sideways and put her head on her mother's shoulder. She could even close her eyes, pretend everything was all right. The other part of her knew that it wouldn't make a difference; she couldn't keep her eyes closed forever.

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But they love each other," Clary said, appalled. "Isn't that what love means? That you're supposed to be there for the other person to turn to, no matter what?" Luke looked toward the river, at the dark water moving slowly under the light of the autumn moon. "Sometimes, Clary," he said, "love just isn't enough.

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"Everything we need to know is locked up in your head, under those pretty red curls." Clary reached up to touch her hair protectively. "I don't think-" "So what are you going to do?" Simon asked sharply. "Cut her head open to get at it?"

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What's this?" he demanded, looking from Clary to his companions, as if they might know what she was doing there. "It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one.

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Some burns," Clary said. "Nothing that matters" "Everything that happens to you matters to me." "Well that certainly explains why you haven't called me back once. And the last time I saw you, you ran away without telling me why. It's like dating a ghost." Jace's mouth quirked up slightly at the side. "Not exactly. Isabelle actually dated a ghost. She could tell you—" "No," Clary said. "It was a metaphor. And you know exactly what I mean.

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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 hands on his cheek, more in surprise than pain. "What the hell was that for?" "The other ten percent.

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Clary stopped dead in her tracks. "Simon?" "Oh, God," said Jace, sounding resigned. "And here I'd actually hoped I'd got hold of something interesting."

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Yes," Jace said, "I regret having disobeyed you." No! Clary thought, but her heart sank. Was he giving up, did he think it was the only way to save her and Simon? Valentine's face softened. "Jonathan-" "Especially," Jace said, "since I plan to do it again. Right now.

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Somehow he managed to look cool despite the heat. It made Clary want to smack him.

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Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said. Clary blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "What?" "I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random.

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Lawful good to lawful evil!" said Simon, pleased. "He's quoting Dungeons and Dragons," said Clary. "Ignore him.

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"Right. Vampires. But how do they get inside?" "They fly"... "We don't fly," Clary felt impelled to point out. "No," Jace agreed. "We don't fly. We break and enter."... "Flying sounds like more fun."

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Simon kept pace beside Clary for a few moments without speaking before he said, So what did I miss? Naked dancing ladies? Clary thought of the male faerie's torn-open ribs and shuddered. Nothing that pleasant.

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You know," Clary said, "most psychologists agree that hostility is really just sublimated sexual attraction.

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Clary closed her eyes. Remembering the way Jace had looked at her the night she'd freed Ithuriel, she couldn't help but imagine the way he'd look at her now if he saw her trying to lie down to die on the sand beside him. He wouldn't be touched, wouldn't think it was a beautiful gesture. He'd be angry at her for giving up. He'd be so—disappointed.

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Where's Magnus?" he said. AS he looked toward the kitchen, Clary saw a bruise on his jaw, below his ear, about the size of a thumbprint. "Alec!" Magnus came skidding into the living room and blew a kiss to his boyfriend across the room. Having discarded his slippers, he was barefoot now. His cat's eyes shone as he looked at Alec.

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The dark prince sat astride his black steed, his sable cape flowing behind him. A golden circlet bound his blond locks, his handsome face was cold with the rage of battle, and... "And his arm looked like an eggplant," Clary muttered to herself in exasperation.

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Clary screamed out loud as he fell like a stone- And landed lightly on his feet just in front of her. Clary stared with her mouth open as he rose up out of a shallow crouch and grinned at her. "If I made a joke about just dropping in," he said, "would you write me off as a cliché?

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Were you ever actually going to leave New York, or were you just saying that to get her to finally make a move? Clary, said Luke, I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing.

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He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.

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