“Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt,” she told him.
“I can’t help it. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain.”
“Your pain will be outer soon if you don’t get out of traffic. Are you trying to get run over by a cab?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We could never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood.”
City of Bones, Cassandra Clare
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“The sluttiest thing a man can do” Jace Herondale edition
Emma drew in a shaky breath, just as a rapping noise sounded at the door. Clary half-turned as it opened, letting in light from the hall outside, and Jace. He caught her eye and smiled, leaning in the doorway. -CoHF
“Why didn’t you say something?” Jace asked, rising and pushing back a lock of blond hair. -CoHF
“Sit down,” she said, and he sat down on the creaking leather sofa, his head tipped back, looking up at her. The reflected firelight clustered like sparks in his hair. -CoHF
“But if people have a spark in them, then yours burns the brightest I know. You can fight and draw. And you will.” -CoHF
“And then there was you. You changed everything I believed in. You know that line from Dante that I quoted to you in the park? 'L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle’?"
Her lips curled a little at the sides as she looked up at him. “I still don't speak Italian."
“It’s a bit of the very last verse from Paradiso—Dante's Paradise. ‘My will and my desire were turned by love, the love that moves the sun and the other stars.’ Dante was trying to explain faith, I think, as an overpowering love, and maybe it's blasphemous, but that's how I think of the way that I love you. You came into my life and suddenly I had one truth to hold on to—that I loved you, and you loved me." -CoFA
"Well, when I was five, I wanted to take a bath in spaghetti."
"But he didn't let you, right?"
"No, that's the thing. He did. He said it wasn't expensive, and why not if that was what I wanted? He had the servants fill a bath with boiling water and pasta, and when it cooled down..." He shrugged. "I took a bath in it.
Servants? Clary thought. Out loud she said, "How was it?"
"Slippery." -CoB.
"Clary," he said in a low voice, and the sound of her name in his mouth was so intimate that a shudder ran up her spine. -CoA.
"I love you, Clary," he said without looking at her. He was staring out into the church, at the rows of lighted candles, their gold reflected in his eyes. "More than I ever—"He broke off. "God. More than I probably should. You know that, don't you?" -CoFA
(…) and Jace was making something in a pan that involved onions and eggs. He was barefoot, his hair messy, his shirt buttoned haphazardly, and the sight of him made her heart turn over. She had never seen him like this, first thing in the morning, still with that warm golden aura of sleep clinging to him (…) -CoLS
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You never let me off the hook for a single minute, do you? Never mind. It's one of the things I love about you.” -CoLS.
I saw this trend on twitter and I had to do it with my favorite blond boy. No regrets, it was fun.
I might even do a second part.
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More than anything else, she wished he was here. She had picked out the dress she was wearing tonight—pale gold and more fitted to her body than anything she usually wore—with the express hope that Jace would like it; now he wasn’t going to see her in it. That was a shallow thing to worry about, she knew; she’d go around dressed in a barrel for the rest of her life if it meant Jace would get better. Besides, he was always telling her she was beautiful, and he never complained about the fact that she mostly wore jeans and sneakers, but she had thought he would like this.
City of Fallen Angels, Cassandra Clare
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“I know,” Jace said. “I’m just saying that I think I chose the way I did in part because of you. Since I’ve met you, everything I’ve done has been in part because of you. I can’t untie myself from you, Clary—not my heart or my blood or my mind or any other part of me. And I don’t want to.”
City Of Glass, Cassandra Clare
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“I love you,” she said, her hands in his hair. “I love you.”
She saw his eyes widen and something behind his expression crack. The last wall around his heart, the last piece of self-protection he’d held in place. It crumbled away into blazing light as he came undone against her, like sunlight bursting into a room that had been walled up for a long, long time. He buried his face in her neck, saying her name over and over before he collapsed against her shoulder. And when finally Clary closed her eyes she thought she saw the cavern blaze up in gold and white, wrapping them both in heavenly fire, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare
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…For a moment Jace just looked at her in astonishment, his lips parted slightly; Clary felt her cheeks flush. He was looking at her like she was the first star that had ever come out in the sky, a miracle painted across the face of the world that he could barely believe in. He swallowed.
City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare
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Jace watched as Clary looked over and blew him a kiss, her red hair bouncing in its ponytail. She was so small—delicate, doll-like, he had thought once, before he’d learned how strong she was.
City of Heavenly Fire, Cassandra Clare
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His eyes widened. “Clary?”
“Who else would it be?”
He didn’t smile. “You don’t look like you.”
“It’s the dress.” She smoothed her hands down the material self-consciously. “I don’t usually wear things this…pretty.”
“You always look beautiful,” he said, and she remembered the first time he’d called her beautiful, in the greenhouse at the Institute. He hadn’t said it like it was a compliment, but just as if it were an accepted fact, like the fact that she had red hair and liked to draw.
City Of Glass, Cassandra Clare
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“So what did he want from me?” Clary demanded in a shaking voice. “Why did he come to my room tonight?” She hoped her cheeks didn’t burn. She tried to push back the memory of kissing him, the pressure of his body against hers in the bed.
He still loves you, said Brother Zachariah, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. You are the central point about which his world spins. That has not changed.
City of Lost Souls, Cassandra Clare
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