Sometimes when you cannot decide what to do, you pretend to be a character in a book, because it is easier to decide what they would do"-Cassandra Clare

I feel myself dissolving, vanishing into nothingness, for if there is no one in the world who cares for you, do you really exist at all?

Don't touch any of my weapons without my permission." "Well, there goes my plan for selling them all on eBay," Clary muttered. "Selling them on what?" Clary smiled blandly at him. "A mythical place of great magical power.

My advice to young writers would be to write every day, even if it is only a few words. Get yourself on the habit of writing and it will become a lifelong one. And find a place to write where you are physically comfortable. You can't concentrate if you aren't. Ernest Hemingway could only write standing up, and Truman Capote could only write lying down!

She had loved him for such a long time, she thought. How was it that she did now know him at all?

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

Of course, the guests were also staring because they know of my relationship with Camille, and are wondering what we might be doing here in the library... alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at Tessa.