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“I thought," she whispered, "that you were going to forget me. Forget all about me." "I can't." His voice sounded as if it were being pulled taut. "A malady. Which is ironic, since you are a physician. If you had medicine that could make me forget you-" "No such thing exists," she said. "Then I am cursed," he said, "to think only of you. You, who think I am a loathsome person. A vain monster who could not resist showing off, and in doing so, has made you wretched.” — Cassandra Clare
I thought," she whispered, "that you were going to forget me. Forget all about me."
"I can't." His voice sounded as if it were being pulled taut. "A malady. Which is ironic, since you are a physician. If you had medicine that could make me forget you-"
"No such thing exists," she said.
"Then I am cursed," he said, "to think only of you. You, who think I am a loathsome person. A vain monster who could not resist showing off, and in doing so, has made you wretched.