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Cassandra Clare
“Have you fallen in love with wrong person yet?”
Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

Cassandra Clare
“she glanced down and saw that a glove of blood covered her lower arm from the elbow to the wrist. The arm
was throbbing, stiff, and painful.
"Is this when you start tearing strips off your T-shirt to bind up my wound?" she joked.
She hated the sight of blood, especially her own.
"If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked." He dug into his pocket and brought out
his stele. "It would have been a lot less painful.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

Cassandra Clare
“Now," Clary said. "I don't want to wait. Do you?"

He didn't reply, just got up off the floor and picked his shirt. He looked at Clary, and almost smiled. "If we're going to the Silent City, you might want to get dressed. I mean, I appreciate the bra-and-panties look, but I don't know if the Silent Brothers will. There are only a few of them left, and I don't want them to die of excitement."

Clary got up off the bed and threw a pillow at him, mostly out of relief. She reached for her clothes and began to pull her shirt on. Just before it went over her head, she caught sight of the knife lying on the bedspread, gleaming like a fork of silvery flame.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels

Cassandra Clare
“What happened to you?”
Jace looked affronted. “What happened to me?”
Alec shook him, not lightly. “You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours?”
“A long one?” Jace suggested.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

Cassandra Clare
“Why are you here?"
"'Here' as in your bedroom, or 'here' as in the great, spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking me whether this is all some cosmic coincidence or if there's a greater meta-ethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, modern-day reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but-,"
-"I'm going back to bed."
-"I'm here because Hodge reminded me it's your birthday.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

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