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Cassandra Clare
“Oh, do you have A Tale of Two Cities?"
"That silly thing? Men going around getting their heads chopped off for love? Ridiculus." Will unpeeled himself from the door and made his way toward Tessa where she stood by the bookshelves. He gestured expansively at the vast number of volumes all around him. "No, here you'll find all sorts of advice about how to chop off someone else's head if you need to; much more useful.”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

Cassandra Clare
“They're still looking at him," she said to Magnus under her breath. "At Will, I mean."

"Of course they are," said Magnus. His eyes reflected light like a cat's as they surveyed the room. "Look at him. The face of a bad angel and eyes like the night sky in Hell. He's very pretty, and vampires like that. I can't say I mind either." Magnus grinned. "Black hair and blue eyes are my favorite combination."

Tessa reached up to pat Camille's pale blond curls.

Magnus shrugged. "Nobody's perfect.”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

Cassandra Clare
“I'm trying to figure out how someone could live in a brothel for a month and not notice. You must be terribly dull-witted."
Tessa glared.
"If it helps at all, it seemed to be quite a high-class establishment. Nicely furnished, fairly clean..."
"Sounds as if you've visited your fair share of brothels," Tessa said, sourly. "Making a study of them?"
"More of a hobby," said Will, and smiled like a bad angel.”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

Cassandra Clare
“I've mastered many thing's in my life. Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms..."
Tessa stared.
"Alas," he went on, "no one has ever actually referred to me as 'the master' or 'the magister', either. More's the pity..."
"Are you highly intoxicated at the moment?”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

Cassandra Clare
“He opened his mouth. The words were there. He was about to say them when a jolt of terror went through him, the terror of someone who, wandering in a mist, pauses only to realise that they have stopped inches from the edge of a gaping abyss. The way she was looking at him - she could read what was in his eyes, he realised. It must have been written plainly there, like words on the page of a book. There had been no time, no chance, to hide it.

“Will,” she whispered. “Say something, Will.”

But there was nothing to say. There was only emptiness, as there had been before her. As there would always be.

'I have lost everything', Will thought. 'Everything.”
Cassandra Clare

year in books
Alex
262 books | 3 friends

Manuela...
5 books | 1 friend





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