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Cassandra Clare -
City of Bones (2007)
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Cucumber and bergamot," Clary said. "Is there anything else you hate that I ought to know about?" Jace looked at Dorothea over the rim of his teacup. "Liars," he said.
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You said you were going for a walk!? What kind of walk takes six hours?" "A long one?
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Hugo is a raven, and, as such he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweathe, a professor of history, as such, I do not know nearly enough.
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Sorry, are you telling me that your demon-slaying buddies need to be driven to their next assignment with the forces of darkness by my mom?
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The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me.
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The thing about the Mirror is that no one knows where it is. In fact, no one knows what it is. "It's a mirror, Simon said. You know – reflective, glass. I'm just assuming.
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And when Jace was ten years old, Valentine killed him. Michael, I mean." "That sounds like something he would do," said Luke. His tone was neutral, but there was something in his voice that made Clary look at him sideways. Did he not believe her? "Jace saw him die, " she added, as if to bolster her claim. "That's awful," said Luke. "Poor messed-up kid.
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Jace slammed his hand down on the stele. Clary- She said she doesn't want it, said Simon. Ha-ha. Ha-ha? Jace looked incredulous. That's your comeback?
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Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interrupted. "No swearing in church.
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Tell me, is he always really rude, or does he save that for mundanes?
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Mundies die awfully easily, don't they?" "Isabelle, you know it's bad luck to talk about death in a sickroom.
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If you're really tired, I could put you to sleep," he said. "Tell you a bedtime story." She looked at him. "Are you serious?" "I'm always serious
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Clary wondered how many boyfriends she'd turned into rats by accident.
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All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.
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Like letting spiders live because they eat mosquitoes, Clary thought. "So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you, good enough to flirt with-but not really good enough? I mean, not as good as people.
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You're a disaster for us, Clary! You're a mundane, you'll always be one, you'll never be a Shadowhunter! You don't know how to think like we do, think about what's best for everyone— all you think about is yourself! But there's a war now, or there will be, and I don't have time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you don't get us killed! Go home, Clary. Go home!
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The horse grunted softly. He had huge teeth, Clary noticed uneasily; each one the size of a Pez dispenser. She imagined those teeth sinking into her leg and thought of all the girls she'd known in middle school who'd wanted ponies of their own. She wondered if they were insane.
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Hello?" Isabelle called from the other side. "Simon, is your diva moment over? I need to talk to Jace.
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Only Jace, Clary thought, could look cool in pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, but he pulled it off, probably through sheer force of will.
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He'd woken up the next day in the city hospital with Magnus Bane staring down at him with an odd expression—it could have been deep concern or merely curiosity, it was hard to tell with Magnus.
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If there was one thing she was learning from all this, it was how easy it was to lose everything you had always thought you'd have forever.
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He picks up his dates in a van? No wonder he's such a hit with the ladies.
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If you ever meet the man who could take advantage of Isabelle, you'll have to let me know. I'd like to shake his hand. Or run away from him very fast, I'm not sure which.
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"I hate it when you answer a question with a question." "No you don't, you think its charming."
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I figured all your classes were stuff like Slaughter 101 and Beheading for Beginners." Jace flipped a page. "Very funny, Fray.
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Well, I'd certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death." He blinked. "There is a fine line between sarcasm and outright hostility, and you seem to have crossed it. What's up?
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It's not gray," Clary felt compelled to point out. "It's green." "If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood," said Jace.
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Tell you what.' Alec reached for a second seraph blade. 'We live through this, and I promise I'll introduce you to my whole family.' Magnus raised his hands, his fingers shining with individual azure flames. They lit his grin with a fiery blue glow. 'It's a deal.
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People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but its the way you live your life that matters.
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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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Quote of the day
Good authors, too, who once knew better words Now only use four-letter words Writing prose — Anything goes.
Cole Porter
Cassandra Clare
Creative Commons
Born:
July 27, 1973
(age 51)
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