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Quote by Cassandra Clare

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City of Heavenly Fire

This book is a part of a larger series, blending elements of fantasy and adventure. It follows the journey of its protagonist through a world rich in magical creatures and political intrigue. The story is known for its intricate plot and well-developed characters, offering readers a deep dive into a vividly imagined universe. 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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FaithFearHurtSelf EsteemConfidenceBlessedSelf WorthCrueltyJealousyJudgementInsecurityRejectedIgnoredLet GoLow Self EsteemMove OnGod S LoveMean PeopleRumorsName CallingCruel PeopleHang OnBlown OffGossiped About
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“The mornings came hard, and our caddie master, Dick Millweed, had a temper that could make a hangover seem like a seismic fracture. He was a small man with a soft, friendly voice. He was not intimidating at all, until he lost it. In his defense, he took shit from all sides - from the members who wanted their favorite caddie and their preferred tee time, from the golf staff who wanted him to perform a million menial duties, and from us when we showed up bleary eyed and incoherent and sometimes didn't show up at all. And God forbid a caddie should stumble in late, because then Millweed's lips would begin to tremble and his blue eyes would explode from his head. They grew as large as saucers and shook as though his skull was suffering earthquake. And he appeared to grow with them. It was like some shaman or yogi trick. Pound for pound, I've never met anyone else who could so effectively deliver anger. He would yell, "You like fucking with me, don't you? You like making me look bad! You wake up and say, 'Today I'm gonna fuck with Millweed!' and it makes you happy, doesn't it?" And we had no choice but to stand there and take it - hang our heads and blubber apologies and promise never to be hung over again, never to show up late again, because he held the ultimate trump card _ he could fire us and cut us off from the golden tit. But once we were out on the course walking it off, the hanover and any cares associated with it (including Millweed) evaporated into the light mountain air. And after the round, with our pockets replenished and our spirits restored by the carefree, self-congratulatory ebullience of the uberrich, we were powerless to resist the siren song of clinking glasses, the inviting golden light of the street lamps and tavern windows in town, and the slopeside hot tubs steaming under the stars. We all jumped ship and dined, danced, and romanced the night away and then were dashed against the rocks of Millweed's wrath all over again the next morning.”

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“Oh, my Seasons. "You disarm me." Oh, my Seasons. Who knew the color blue could smolder? His eyes held mine, feasted on them. No. Not feasted. He wanted that with her, not with me. At any rate, my breathing stalled. I could lose my mind to that face, his expression strumming a hundred truths from me, whether I liked it or not. "What do you wish for?" he asked. For my mother to get better. For her to look at me without grabbing that mallet. For people to see me as a real girl. For them to believe it. For me to believe it. For you to believe it.”

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