Cassandra Clare

Every decision you make, makes you. Never let other people choose who you__e going to be.

...We die, we turn, we are reborn as we deserve to be reborn, based on our doings in this world." Will looked down at his bitten nails. "I will probably be reborn as a slug that someone salts.

My parents raised me to get things done, no matter what. They don__ care about rules, just appearances. This whole time I__e been telling myself that I__ going to be different from my parents, different from my sister, be the one who stuck to the straight and narrow. But I think I had it all wrong, Call. I don__ care about rules or appearances. I don__ want to be the person who just gets things done. I want to do the right thing. I don__ care if we have to lie or cheat or cut corners or break rules to do it.

This was Jace being brave. Simon thought, brave and snarky because he thought Lilith was going to kill him, and that was the way he wanted to go, unafraid and on his feet. Like a warrior. The way Shadowhunters did. His death song would always be this-jokes and snideness and pretend arrogance, and that look in his eyes that said 'I'm better than you'. Simon just hadn't realized it before.

as long as I can still dream, I will dream of you.

Pulvis et umbra sumus. It's a line from Horace. 'We are dust and shadows'. Appropriate, don't you think?" Will said. "It's not a long life, killing demons; one tends to die young, and then they burn your body - dust to dust, in the literal sense. And then we vanish into the shadows of history, nary a mark on the page of a mundane book to remind the world that once we existed at all.

It is not easy to be different, and even less so to be unique. But I begin to think I was never meant for an easy road.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the Angel's sake. Look, if there's no other way of getting out of this, I'll kiss Simon. I've done it before, it wasn't that bad.""Thanks," said Simon. "That's very flattering.""Well, I'm not kissing the mundane," said Jace. "I'd rather stay down here and rot.""Forever?" said Simon. "Forever's an awfully long time."Jace raised his eyebrows. "I knew it," he said. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"Simon threw up his hands in exasperation. "Of course not. But if_""I guess it's true what they say," observed Jace. "There are no straight men in the trenches.""That's atheists, jackass," said Simon furiously. "There are no atheists in the trenches.

I want you to be happy, and him to be happy. And yet when you walk down that aisle to meet him and join yourselves forever you will walk an invisible path of the shards of my heart, Tessa. I would give over my own life for either of yours. I perhaps that when you told me you did not love me my feelings would fall away and atrophy, but they have not. They have grown every day. I love you now more desperately, this moment, than I have ever loved you before, and in an hour I will love you more than that. It is unfair to tell you this, I know, when you can do nothing about it.

Unrequited love is a ridiculous state, and it makes those in it behave ridiculously.

I wouldn't change it," Simon said. "I wouldn't give up loving you. Not for anything. You know what Raphael told me? That I didn't know how to be a good vampire, that vampires accept that they're dead. But as long as I remember what it was like to love you, I'll always feel like I'm alive.

The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you, Clary, he can't.

She could ask for anything, she thought dizzily, anything--an end to pain or world hunger or disease, or for peace on earth. But then again, perhaps these things weren't in the power of angels to grant, or they would already have been granted. And perhaps people were supposed to find these things for themselves.

And when I saw him[my father] lying dead in a pool of his own blood, I knew then that I hadn't stopped believing in God. I'd just stopped believing God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might be not. Either way, we're on our own.

Sharp are the arrows of a broken heart.

Magnus did not take such suffering lightly, but even mortals did not die of broken hearts. No matter how cruel Grace had been, he told himself, James would heal. Even though he was a Herondale.

Everybody in this academy, Shadowhunters and mundanes, people with the Sight and without it, every one of them is looking to be a hero. We are all hoping for it, and trying for it, and soon we will all be bleeding for it.

Heroes endure because we need them. Not for their own sake.