A Quote by Cassandra Clare
Filters are for cigarrettes and coffee," Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. "Two things I could use right now, incidentally.
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Simon I've been trying to call you, but it seems like your phone is turned off. I don't know where you are right now. I don't know if Clary's already told you what happened tonight. But I have to go to Magnus's and I'd really like you to be there. I'm scared for my brother. I never ask you for anything, Simon, but I'm asking you now. Please come. Isabelle. Simon let the letter fall from his hand. He was out of the apartment and on his way down the steps before it had even hit the floor.
I let her through. She checked Derek's pulse and his breathing, saying both seemed okay, then leaned down to his face. "Nothing weird on his breath. Smells . . . like toothpaste." Derek's eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was Tori's face inches from his. He jumped and let out an oath. Simon cracked up. I madly motioned for him to be quiet. "Are you okay?" I asked Derek. "He is now," Simon said. "After Tori jump-started his heart.
He has fought many battles with us" (Jace) By which you mean one battle" muttered Simon. "Two if you count the one I was a rat
I think I like ‘mundane’ better than ‘bloodsucker,’” Simon muttered. “With Jace, you don’t really get to choose your insulting nickname.” -Simon and Clary, pg.234-
He could feel it immediately when his shoulder snapped - the intense pain of his bones cracking. His skin tightened, as if it could no long hold whatever was lurking inside him. The breath was sucked from his lungs like he was being crushed. His vision began to blur, and he had the sensation he was falling, even though he could feel the rock tearing at his flesh as his body seized on the ground.
Simon!” The voice was Clary’s. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense memory of what he’d most loved during life to carry him through the process of death. “Simon, you stupid idiot! I’m over here! At the window!” Simon jumped to his feet. He doubted his mind would conjure that up.
So now, how did God produce this world?... The fable is that he breathed upon us. In his breath, his wind, came moisture and things began to grow... a message of hope. Nothing physical. How do you intend for your breath to become a work of art? The only way I can see it is that you prevent your breath from becoming a structure. As soon as your breath takes on the form of a room, you are a carpenter; you're not God.
And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own. He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers. My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper. "Dios mio, I want to kiss you ... to taste your lips, your tongue." He gently traces my lips withthe tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.
Suddenly, I was just sure he was going to kiss me. He was there, I could feel his breath, the ground solid beneath us. But then something crossed his face, a thought, a hesitation, and he shifted slightly. Not now. Not yet. It was something I'd done so often - weighing what I could afford to risk, right at that moment - that I recognized it instantly. It was like looking in a mirror.
This time Clary concentrated, trying to focus her mind on Simon-The Simon-ness of him, the shape of the way he thought, the feeling of hearing his voice, the sence of him close. His whispers, his secrets, the way he made her laugh. 'So', she thought conversationally, 'now that I'm in your mind, wnat to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?' Simon jumped. "I heard that! And, no.
Alec slid his hand from Jace's arm to his shoulder. Magnus cleared his throat. Alec dropped his hand. Simon grinned into his undrunk coffee.
Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. It rhymed with something that sounded a lot more like "ducking glass mole.
And now a chill settled over them where they stood, and Harry heard the rasping breath of the dementors that patrolled the outer trees. They would not affect him now. The fact of his own survival burned inside him, a talisman against them, as though his father's stag kept guardian in his heart.
I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I want you to look pretty.
A man has a right to use a saw, an axe, a plane, separately; may he not combine their uses on the same piece of wood? He has a right to use his knife to cut his meat, a fork to hold it; may a patentee take from him the right to combine their use on the same subject? Such a law, instead of enlarging our conveniences, as was intended, would most fearfully abridge them, and crowd us by monopolies out of the use of the things we have.
I will use a form of punctuation of my own, which will be something like this - when one is beginning he takes a long breath, for this use a capital. When he stops for breath, a comma, and when it is all gone, a period. Don't know the use of a semi-colon, but expect it is when one thinks he is out of breath and isn't.
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