This was a voice that drew out memories stretched thin by years of recollection, like paper unfolded and refolded too many times. A voice that brought back, like a wave, the memory of another time on this bridge, a night so long ago, everything black and silver and the river rushing away under her feet.

We live and breathe words. .... It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt-I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted-and then I realized that truly I just wanted you

You snuck up on me,” she said. “I guess I’m not much of a Shadowhunter, huh?” Simon shrugged. “Well, in your defense, I do move with a silent, pantherlike grace.

I love you, Tessa, and I have loved you, almost since the moment I met you.

It was odd, (Tessa thought), what brought out tenderness in people.

Take my hands,” Alec said. “And take my strength too. Whatever of it you can use to— to keep yourself going.

Clary wondered what exactly peanut-fish-olive-tomato soup tasted like.