But you hate poetry! Yes, but you make me want to write it.

Look on the bright side," said Simon, "If they need a human sacrifice, you can always offer me. I'm not sure the rest of you qualify anyway.

It’s that I think Will is angry with me,” Tessa explained. “So whatever he told you—” He laughed. “Will is angry with everyone,” he said. “I don’t let it color my judgment.

We shouldn’t,” protested Isabelle. “The Clave has a plan.” “The Clave has the collective intelligence of a pineapple,” said Jace. Alec blinked up at them. “Jace is right.” Isabelle turned on her brother. “What do you know? You weren’t even paying attention.” “I was,” Alec said, injured. “I said Jace was right.” “Yeah, but there’s like a 90% chance of me being right most of the time, so that’s not proof you were listening,” said Jace. “That’s just a good guess.

Hang Mortmain," said Will. "And I mean that literally, of course, but also figuratively.

She felt as if she bled her regret and loneliness from her very pores, and yet she could not shape those feelings into any sentiment she could imagine her parents could bear reading.

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!