It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's like a million little paper cuts every day.
Cassandra ClareLife is a book, and there are a thousand pages I have not read. I would read them together with you, as many as I can, before I die -" She put her hand against his chest, just over his heart, and felt its beat against her palm, a unique time signature that was all its own. "I only wish you would not speak of dying," she said. "But even for that, yes, I know how you are with your words, and, Will- I love all of them. Every word you say. The silly ones, the mad ones, the beautiful ones, and the ones that are only for me. I love them, and I love you.
Cassandra ClareI am sorry," Will said. "No," Jem said... "Don't be ordinary like that. Don't say you're sorry.
Cassandra ClareRemember when you fell out of that tree on the farm when you were ten, and broke your arm? Remember how he made them let him ride with you in the ambulance on the way to the hospital? He kicked and yelled till they gave in.โ โYou laughed,โ said Clary, remembering, โand my mom hit you in the shoulder.โ โIt was hard not to laugh. Determination like that in a 10-year-old is something to see. He was like a pit bull.โ โIf pit bulls wore glasses and were allergic to ragweed.โ -Luke and Clary talking about Simon, pg.211-
Cassandra ClareShe looked up at him with a smile. The smile broke what was left of his resistance - shattered it. He had let the walls down when he'd thought she was gone, and there was no time to build them back up. Helplessly he pulled her against him. For a moment she clung to him tightly, warm and alive in his arms. Her hair brushed his cheek. The color had come back into the world; he could breathe again, and for that moment he breathed her in - she smelled of salt, blood, tears, and Tessa.
Cassandra Clare