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Quote by Cassandra Clare

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Cassandra Clare
Cassandra Clare

Cassandra Clare is a renowned American author, best known for her young adult fantasy novel series, 'The Mortal Instruments'. Her works blend elements of magic, romance, and adventure, captivating young readers worldwide. more

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“If you're lucky enough you'll come across a certain individual who will completely shake up your life. A spark so deep you feel it before meeting them, a soul preparation for a drastic change. Whether this chance meeting it fleeting or holds longevity, it's a signpost you won't be able to ignore and you'll be a completely different person to whom you were before. This is magic, this is fate, this is purpose. And this is why we are alive, to experience a soul in human form and embrace The depth of life.”

“✨ “We spend our entire life trying to prove our religion to others, but we never try to feel it within ourselves. God doesn't want a loud worship… He wants a silent transformation. If your prayers only move your lips but never move your soul, then you are worshipping a ritual — not God.””

“great literature is literature that speaks to deep, fundamental human truths and experience in a way that is relatable to the reader and that may provoke engagement or facilitate insight into these truths and experiences. If these truths and experiences are about breaches of the normal, then surely horror has a place in literature, and in facts may proffer deep engagement with the most profound aspects of our existence. Sometimes only horror can say what needs to be said.”

“No. No… No!’ the fear ebbed my voice, cut through me like a knife. I ran, bare feet slipping and sliding over the floorboards. I turned the corner and headed for the backdoor. Run. Run. I must run. As soon as I reached the backdoor in the kitchen, pulling the barn door from the hinges, I felt his gaze upon me. Cinders and kindling crunched at my feet; what had once been my lovely mahogany kitchen furniture was now little more than firewood. My crockery and china splintered in shards and as I turned to face him, I felt them dig into my skin, cut me with every shiver that bolted through my frame. ‘You wanted Hemlock House. You have, Hemlock House.’ His voice was dark, cruel and yet hauntingly light. As if cooing, whispering to a newborn. He was lounging against the countertop as if waiting for breakfast, as if waiting for something so meaningless.”