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Quote by Cassandra Clare

“God knows we’re all drawn toward what’s beautiful and broken; I have been, but some people cannot be fixed. Or if they can be, it’s only by love and sacrifice so great it destroys the giver.”

Quote by Cassandra Clare

Book:City of Lost Souls
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Work

City of Lost Souls

In this thought-provoking tale, the protagonist is thrust into a world where the line between right and wrong is blurred. The story unfolds in a city where power is concentrated in the hands of a few, and the masses struggle for survival. The narrative delves into themes of identity, morality, and the human spirit, as the protagonist grapples with the complexities of their own existence amidst a backdrop of societal decay. 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

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Book:در کوچه‌باغهای نشابور
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“She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Harry's did. Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection. "Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?" They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees -- Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside of him, half joy, half terrible sadness.”

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Book:Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
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“The campus, an academy of trees, under which some hand, the wind's I guess, had scattered the pale light of thousands of spring beauties, petals stained with pink veins; secret, blooming for themselves. We sat among them. Your long fingers, thin body, and long bones of improbable genius; some scattered gene as Kafka must have had. Your deep voice, this passing dust of miracles. That simple that was myself, half conscious, as though each moment was a page where words appeared; the bent hammer of the type struck against the moving ribbon. The light air, the restless leaves; the ripple of time warped by our longing. There, as if we were painted by some unknown impressionist.”

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Book:In the Next Galaxy
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