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Quote by Cassandra Clare

“You're a Shadowhunter," he said. "You know how to deal with injuries." He slid his stele across the table toward her. "Use it." "No," Clary said, and pushed the stele back across the table at him. 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?" Alec, folding his phone, approached the table with a puzzled look. "What's going on?" "We seem to be trapped in an episode of One Life to Waste," Magnus observed. "It's all very dull.”

Quote by Cassandra Clare

Book:City of Ashes
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Work

City of Ashes

In this gripping narrative, readers are transported to a desolate urban landscape where remnants of a once-thriving civilization are now overgrown with ash. The story follows a group of individuals navigating this harsh environment, facing the challenges of scarcity, oppression, and the remnants of a world that once was. 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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“Lost in thought, it took her several moments to realize that Jace had been saying something to her. When she blinked at him, she saw a wry grin spread across his face. "What?" she asked, ungraciously. "I wish you'd stop desperately trying to get my attention like this," he said. "It's become embarrassing." "Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt," she told him. "I can't help it. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain." "Your pain will be outer soon if you don't get out of traffic. Are you trying to get run over by a cab?" "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "We could never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood.”

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“But isn't that what love is, Clarissa? Ownership? 'I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine,' as the Song of Songs goes." "No. And don't quote the Bible at me. I don't think you get it...It's not just that someone belongs to you, it's that you give yourself to them. I doubt you've ever given anything to anyone. Except maybe nightmares." "To give yourself to someone?" The thin smile didn't waver. "As you've given yourself to Jonathan?" "What?" "You think I haven't seen the way you two look at each other? The way he says your name? You may not think I can feel, but that doesn't mean I can't see feelings in others.”

Clary FrayJace WaylandJace And ClaryValentine Morgenstern
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“She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone. "Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!" Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him." Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?" "Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them." 'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!" "You bet it does," Clary said.”

PoemsHilariousClary FrayEricSimon LewisPoetry Critic
Book:City of Bones
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“The Angel blade burns you, just as God's name chokes you," said Valentine, his cool voice sharp as crystal. "They say that those who die upon its point will achieve the gates of heaven. In which case, revenant, I am doing you a favor." He lowered the blade so that the tip touched Simon's throat. Valentine's eyes were the color of black water and there was nothing in them: no anger, no compassion, not even any hate. They were empty as a hollowed-out grave. "Any last words?" Simon knew what he was supposed to say. Sh'ma Yisrael, adonai elohanu, adonai echod. Hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One. He tried to speak the words, but a searing pain burned his throat. "Clary," he whispered instead.”

Last WordsClary FraySimon LewisValentine Morgenstern
Book:City of Ashes
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“Suddenly reminded, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh—Simon!" "No, I'm Jace," said Jace patiently. "Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense." "Oh, shut up," she replied, but it was more automatic than heartfelt. "I meant to call before I went to sleep. See if he got home okay." Shaking his head, Jace regarded the heavens as if they were about to open up and reveal the secrets of the universe. "With everything that's going on, you're worried about Weasel Face?" "Don't call him that. He doesn't look like a weasel." "You may be right," said Jace. "I've met an attractive weasel or two in my time. He looks more like a rat.”

Clary FrayRivalryBanterSimon LewisJace Wayland
Book:City of Bones
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