CJ Boylan > CJ's Quotes

“James dropped Cordelia’s hands. They were no longer dancing. James turned away from Cordelia without a word and strode across the room toward the newcomers. She stood, frozen in confusion, as James bent to kiss the hand of the stunningly beautiful girl who had just walked into the room. Titters rose on the dance floor. Lucie had stepped back from Matthew, her eyes wide. Alastair and Thomas both turned to look at Cordelia with expressions of surprise.
At any moment, Cordelia knew, her mother would notice that she was drifting in the middle of the dance floor like an abandoned tugboat and charge toward her, and then Cordelia would die. She would die of the humiliation. Cordelia was scanning the room for the nearest exit, ready to flee, when a hand grasped her arm. She was spun around and into an expert grip: a moment later she was dancing again, her feet automatically following her partner’s.
“That’s right.” It was Matthew Fairchild. Fair hair, spicy cologne, a blur of a smile. His hands were gentle as he swept her back into the waltz. “Just—try to smile, and no one will notice anything happened. James and I are practically interchangeable in the public consciousness anyway.”
“James—left,” Cordelia said, in shock.
“I know,” said Matthew. “Very bad form. One should not leave a lady on the dance floor unless something is actually on fire. I’ll have a word.”
“A word,” Cordelia echoed. She was beginning to feel less stunned and more angry. “A word?”
“Several words, if it will make you feel better?”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“The last time you were feeling heartbroken, you took shots at a chandelier with a mundane gun and nearly drowned yourself in the Serpentine.” said Matthew.
“I wasn’t trying to drown myself,” James pointed out. “Besides, Magnus Bane saved me.”
“Don’t mention that,” said Matthew, as James uncapped the flask. “You know how angry I am about that. I idolize Magnus Bane, you had one chance to meet him, and you embarrassed us all.”
“I’m quite sure I never mentioned any of you to him,” said James, and tipped the flask back. He choked. It was blue ruin: the cheapest, harshest kind of gin. It went down like lightning. He coughed and thrust the flask away.
“Even worse,” said Matthew. “How sharper than the serpent’s tooth it is to have an ungrateful parabatai.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“A broad smile spread across Will’s face. “Then we have no choice but to give our blessing too. Cordelia Carstairs,” he said, “the Carstairs and the Herondales will be bonded even more closely now. If James could have chosen his wife from all the women in all the worlds that are or ever were, I would wish for no other.”
Tessa laughed. “Will! You cannot compliment our new daughter only on the chance of her last name!”
Will was grinning like a boy. “Wait until I tell Jem—”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“You look ill,” Matthew observed. “Is it my dancing? Is it me personally?”
“Perhaps I’m nervous,” she said. “Lucie did say you didn’t like many people.”
Matthew gave a sharp, startled laugh, before schooling his face back into a look of lazy amusement. “Did she? Lucie’s a chatterbox.”
“But not a liar,” she said.
“Well, fear not. I do not dislike you. I hardly know you,” said Matthew. “I do know your brother. He made my life miserable at school, and Christopher’s, and James’s.”
“Alastair and I are very different,” Cordelia said. She didn’t want to say more than that. It felt disloyal to Alastair. “I like Oscar Wilde, for instance, and he does not.”
The corner of Matthew’s mouth curled up. “I see you go directly for the soft underbelly, Cordelia Carstairs. Have you really read Oscar’s work?”
“Just Dorian Gray,” Cordelia confessed. “It gave me nightmares.”
“I should like to have a portrait in the attic,” Matthew mused, “that would show all my sins, while I stayed young and beautiful. And not only for sinning purposes—imagine being able to try out new fashions on it. I could paint the portrait’s hair blue and see how it looks.”
“You don’t need a portrait. You are young and beautiful,” Cordelia pointed out.
“Men are not beautiful. Men are handsome,” objected Matthew.
“Thomas is handsome. You are beautiful,” said Cordelia, feeling the imp of the perverse stealing over her. Matthew was looking stubborn. “James is beautiful too,” she added.
“He was a very unprepossessing child,” said Matthew. “Scowly, and he hadn’t grown into his nose.”
“He’s grown into everything now,” Cordelia said.
Matthew laughed, again as if he was surprised to be doing it. “That was a very shocking observation, Cordelia Carstairs. I am shocked.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“I appreciate the scientific rigor with which you’ve approached this project, Anna,” said Christopher, who had gotten jam on his sleeve. “Though I don’t think I could manage to collect that many names and also pursue science. Much too time-consuming.”
Anna laughed. “How many names would you want to collect, then?”
Christopher tilted his head, a brief frown of concentration crossing his face, and did not reply.
“I would only want one,” said Thomas.
Cordelia thought of the delicate tracery of the compass rose on Thomas’s arm, and wondered if he had any special person in mind.
“Too late for me to only have one,” declared Matthew airily. “At least I can hope for several names in a carefully but enthusiastically selected list.”
“Nobody’s ever tried to seduce me at all,” Lucie announced in a brooding fashion. “There’s no need to look at me like that, James. I wouldn’t say yes, but I could immortalize the experience in my novel.”
“It would be a very short novel, before we got hold of the blackguard and killed him,” said James.
There was a chorus of laughter and argument. The afternoon sun was sinking in the sky, its rays catching the jeweled hilts of the knives in Anna’s mantelpiece. They cast shimmering rainbow patterns on the gold-and-green walls. The light illuminated Anna’s shabby-bright flat, making something in Cordelia’s heart ache. It was such a homey place, in a way that her big cold house in Kensington was not.
“What about you, Cordelia?” said Lucie.
“One,” said Cordelia. “That’s everyone’s dream, isn’t it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves—one who gives you everything.”
Anna laughed. “Searching for the one is what leads to all the misery in this world,” she said. “Searching for many is what leads to all the fun.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“As the carriage rolled under the Institute’s gates, James saw his parents standing in the courtyard.
“And where have you been?” Will demanded as James clambered out of the carriage. The others leaped down behind him, the girls, being in gear, needing no help to dismount. “You stole our carriage.”
James wished he could tell his father the truth, but that would be breaking their sworn promise to Ragnor.
“It’s only the second-best carriage,” James protested.
“Remember when Papa stole Uncle Gabriel’s carriage? It’s a proud family tradition,” said Lucie, as the group of them approached the Institute steps.
“I did not raise you to be horse thieves and scallywags,” said Will. “And I recall very clearly that I told you—”
“Thank you for letting them borrow the carriage to come and get me,” said Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, and she looked entirely innocent. James felt an amused stab of surprise: she was an interestingly skilful liar. “I had very much wanted to come to the Institute and see what I could do to help.”
Will softened immediately. “Of course. You are always welcome here, Cordelia.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really, instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves - one who gives you everything.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Sona looked slightly horrified. “Cordelia has a tendency to throw herself into every situation headlong,” she said to Tessa and Will. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, we do,” said Will. “We’re always speaking very sternly to our children about that very thing. ‘If you don’t throw yourself into situations headlong, James and Lucie, you can expect bread and water for supper again.’  ”
Alastair choked on a laugh. Sona stared at Will as if he were a lizard with feathers.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Tessa said, “The natural state of Shadowhunters is battle. When it is always ongoing, there is no time to stop and think that it is not an ideal condition for happiness. Shadowhunters are not suited to a halcyon state, yet we have had that time for the past decade or so. Perhaps we had begun to think ourselves invincible.”
“People are only invincible in books,” said Cordelia.
“I think you will find most of the time, not even then,” said Tessa. “But at least we can always pick up a book and read it anew. Stories offer a thousand fresh starts.”
“The only equivalent in real life is memory,” Tessa said, looking up as Will Herondale came into the room, followed by Cousin Jem. “But memories can be bitter as well as sweet.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Malcolm Fade smiled. “Welcome, little Shadowhunters. Few of your kind ever see the inner chambers of Hypatia Vex.”
“Is she welcome, I wonder?” asked Hypatia, with a catlike smile. “Let her approach.”
Cordelia and Matthew advanced together, Cordelia moving cautiously around the rococo chairs and tables, gleaming with gilt and pearls. Close up, the pupils of Hypatia Vex’s eyes were the shape of stars: her warlock mark. “I cannot say I care for the idea of so many Nephilim infesting my salon. Are you interesting, Cordelia Carstairs?”
Cordelia hesitated.
“If you have to think about it,” said Hypatia, “then you’re not.”
“That hardly makes sense,” said Cordelia. “Surely if you do not think, you cannot be interesting.”
Hypatia blinked, creating the effect of stars turning off and on like lamps. Then she smiled. “I suppose you may stay a moment.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Mors irrumat omnia. Death fucks us all.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”
― Louis de Bernières, Corelli’s Mandolin

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis