I always wanted to be a writer since I was around 12 years old and I wrote my first book.

For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again, he may well not be quite as you left him.

Henry's breath hissed out through his teeth. That ba-bad man, he finished, with a quick glance at Cecily, who rolled her eyes.

Who said we were owed happiness?

Clary: What are you doing here, anyway? Jace: 'Here' as in your bedroom or 'here' as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking whether it's all just a cosmic coincidence or there's a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but- Clary: I'm going to bed.

Wherever we are, we are as one

And the gold of her ruined wedding dress.