Staring at him the way she might stare at a beloved place she was not sure she would ever see again, trying to commit the details to memory, to paint them on the backs of her eyelids that she might see it when she shut her eyes to sleep.
Cassandra ClareWas this what it meant to love someone? That any burden was a burden shared, that they could give you comfort with a word or a touch?
Cassandra ClareDespite everything, I canโt bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more than I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other.
Cassandra ClareNo real lady would let a dress that might have been worn by a stranger touch her skin.
Cassandra ClareAnd then she said nothing else, for Henry put his arms around her and kissed her. Kissed her in such a way that she no longer felt plain, or conscious of her hair or the ink spot on her dress or anything but Henry, whom she had always loved. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks, and when he drew away, he touched her wet face wonderingly. "Really," he said. "You love me, too, Lottie?
Cassandra Clare