Tessa had lain down beside him and slid her arm beneath his head, and put her head on his chest,listening to the ever-weakening beat of his heart. And in the shadows they'd whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. Of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant. Of a ballroom and a balcony and the moon sailing like a ship untethered through the sky. Of the flutter of the wings of the clockwork Angel. Of holy water and blood.
Cassandra ClareI have a plan.โ He groaned. โI was afraid of that.โ โMy plans are not terrible.โ โIsabelleโs plans are terrible.โ He pointed a finger at her. โYour plans are suicidal. At best.โ She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. โDo you want to hear it or not? You have to keep it a secret.โ โI would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets,โ Simon said, then looked anxious. โWait a second. Do you think thatโs likely to be required?
Cassandra ClareWhen you find a man you wish to marry, Tessa, remember this: You will know what kind of man he is not by the things he says, but by the things he does.
Cassandra ClareLuke moved as silently as fog, while Maryse's heels sounded like gunshots on the marble floor. Clary wondered if Isabelle's propensity for unsuitable footwear was genetic.
Cassandra ClareHe seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal." Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?" He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
Cassandra Clare