Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Cassandra Clare

Quote by Cassandra Clare

Work

City of Fallen Angels

This novel delves into the dark underbelly of a contemporary city, examining the complexities of crime and the corrupting influence it has on society. The story follows characters entangled in a web of deceit and power struggles, offering a gripping narrative that delves into the human psyche and the moral dilemmas faced by those caught in the criminal underworld. more

Author

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

You May Also Like

“Джулиан однажды признался, что, когда ему становится тяжело, он мысленно откладывает некоторые проблемы и чувства в долгий ящик. "Стоит закрыть их в ящике, - сказал он, - и они больше тебя не беспокоят. Их просто нет".”

“I have just come from the East End,” he said. “Something about the stories disturbed me, for more than the obvious reasons. I went there to have a look about for myself. And what happened last night proves my theory. There have been many murders recently—all of women, women who . . .” “Prostitutes,” Tessa said. “Quite,” Gabriel said. “Tessa has such an extensive vocabulary,” Will said. “It is one of the most attractive things about her. Shame about yours, Gabriel.” “Will, listen to me.” Gabriel allowed himself a long sigh. “Spoon!” James said, running at his uncle Gabriel and jabbing him in the thigh. Gabriel mussed the boy’s hair affectionately. “You’re such a good boy,” he said. “I often wonder how you could possibly be Will’s.” “Spoon,” James said, leaning against his uncle’s leg lovingly. “No, Jamie,” Will urged. “Your honorable father has been impugned. Attack, attack!”

“Will. For a moment her heart hesitated. She remembered when Will had died, her agony, the long nights alone, reaching across the bed every morning when she woke up, for years expecting to find him there, and only slowly growing accustomed to the fact that that side of the bed would always be empty. The moments when she had found something funny and turned to share the joke with him, only to be shocked anew that he was not there. The worst moments, when, sitting alone at breakfast, she had realized that she had forgotten the precise blue of his eyes or the depth of his laugh; that like the sound of Jem's violin music, they had faded into the distance where memories are silent.”