Top 774 Simon And Clary Quotes & Sayings - Page 3

I remember one time I went to a party and I had to interview Reese Witherspoon. She was just in this movie "Freeway," it's like 1996. To prepare for the interview I went to meet her at this release party, and I end up getting in this fist fight with a guy. I'm not much of a fighter but I get in this fight and the press was all there and they saw me, and all of a sudden the next day in the paper was 'Simon Rex and his posse get in scuffle, and Simon crashes a bottle over a guy's head after smoking crack in the bathroom.' I saved the article forever.

A sarcastic blond genie with a bad attitude. -Clary, pg.243-

I look like Julian Clary on steroids.

How'd you get Magnus to let Jace leave?" "Traded him for Alec," Clary said.

Clary found herself wondering if the forsaken were edible.

Simon looked at Jordan who was looking at Maia again. She had her back to them and was talking to Luke and Jocelyn, laughing, flinging her curly hair back. "Don't even think about it," Simon said, and got up. He pointed at Jordan. "You stay here." "And do what?" "Whatever Praetor Lupas do in this situation. Meditate. Contemplate your Jedi powers. Whatever.

Clary: "Aren't they supposed to be hiring someone else to train me full-time anyway?"

He grinned. It was a wicked grin, the kind that made the blood in Clary's veins run a little faster. "You want to go on a date?" Caught off guard, she stammered. "A wh-what?" "A date," Jace repeated. "Often 'a boring thing you have to memorize in history class,' but in this case, 'an offering of an evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly." "Really?" Clary was not sure what to make of this. "Blisteringly white-hot?" "It's me," said Jace. "Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.

Growing up happens when you start having things you look back on and wish you could change -Clary Fray

Lucy swayed in shock. A gust of wind moaned through the conservatory and blew out all but one of her candles. Simon must have done this. He’d destroyed his fairyland conservatory. Why? She sank to her knees, huddled on the cold floor, her one remaining flame cradled in her numb palms. She’d seen how tenderly Simon had cared for his plants. Remembered the look of pride when she’d first discovered the dome and fountain. For him to have smashed all this . . . He must have lost hope. All hope.

There's this one photograph of guy I know named Simon. The way he's standing, the background, the way his tie's flipping in the wind-it looks good in the small version, but in the big version, he looks like some kind of Italian fashion superhero or something. Like if the fashion police couldn't handle it, they'd call Simon, wearing a big S on his chest for some kind of fashion superhero.

I'm a humorist. A guy like Paul Simon just makes my life so much simpler. When I was there, he had a hearing against hate. Steven Spielberg came and testified against hate. Paul Simon said hate was bad. Orrin Hatch was there, and he was against hate too. Everyone was opposed to hate. Is this really a wonderful way to spend our tax dollars, to have these men drone away about how against hate they are?

Somehow he managed to look cool despite the heat. It made Clary want to smack him.

He strode to the wall and tore aside one of the velvet hangings. “You want to tell me what this is?” he demanded. “It’s a door, Jace,” said Clary.

What have you done to my cat?" Magnus demanded... "You drank his blood, didn't you? You said you weren't hungry!" Simon was indignant. "I did not drink his blood. He's fine!" He poked the Chairman in the stomach. The cat yawned. "Second, you asked me if I was hungry when you were ordering pizza, so I said no, because I can't eat pizza. I was being polite." "That doesn't get you the right to eat my cat." "Your cat is fine!" Simon reached to pick up the tabby, who jumped indignantly to his feet and stalked off the table. "See?" "Whatever.

Sometimes.. Love just ain't enough- Luke Garroway to Clary

You know," Clary said, "most psychologists agree that hostility is really just sublimated sexual attraction.

What's an eBay?" "A mythical place of great magical power." - Jace Wayland and Clary Fray (City of Bones)

He'll come back," Simon said again. "For you.

What about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "Where is she?" The humor, such as it was, left Jace's expression. "She won't come out of her room," he said. "She thinks that what happened to Max was her fault. She won't even come to the funeral." "Have you tried talking to her?" "No," Jace said, "we've been punching her repeatedly in the face instead. Why, do you think that won't work?" "Just thought I'd ask." Simon's tone was mild.

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.

I don't have anything against Simon Cowell and 'The X Factor.'

Simon had drawn three pictures. In the top left corner, like a salutation, was a ghost. The middle had a big sketch of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator. The third in place of a signature, was a lightning bolt surrounded by fog. Beside the drawing, someone had scrawled in inch-high letters 10 A.M. Tori snatched it from me and turned it over. "So where's the message?" "Right there." I pointed from picture to picture. "It says: Chloe, I'll be back, Simon.

You know you're smarter than all of them, right?" Hale said flatly. "In fact, if you wanted to PROVE it..." He glanced at the blackjack tables. Simon shook his head. "I don't count cards, Hale." "Don't?" Hale smiled. "Or won't? You know, technically, it's not illegal." "But it's frowned upon." Sweat beaded at Simon's brow. He sounded like someone had just suggested he swim after eating... run with scissors... "It is SERIOUSLY frowned upon.

Samuel! Are you alright?" A vision of Samuel being brained by the falling bars rose up before Simon's eyes. Samuel's voice rose to a scream. "GO AWAY!" Simon looked sideways at Jace. "I think he means it." Jace shook his blond head in exasperation. "You had to make a crazy jail friend, didn't you? You couldn't just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?

Jace flushed a slow, dark red. "It's not like that. If I thought it would help the Clave-but it won't. She'll just get hurt-" "Even if you thought it would help the Clave", Simon said, "you'd never let them have her." "What makes you say that, vampire?" "Because no one can have her but you"said Simon

Clary wondered what exactly peanut-fish-olive-tomato soup tasted like.

Clary,” Jocelyn said. “I want you to meet Tessa Gray.

Simon-But werewolfs don't like our kind! Jordan-I do. It's his kind I don't like. They think they're better than everyone else. Jace-No, I think I'm better than everybody else. City of Fallen Angels- Jace, Simon, and Jordan.

Goodness, that Simon Cowell is a sensitive soul.

Oh, come on," Clary said. "You're a vampire, not Spider-Man.

It doesn't hurt." "But my eyes do," said a coolly amused voice from the doorway. Jace. He had come in so quietly that even Simon hadn't heard him; closing the door behind him, he grinned as Isabelle pulled Simon's shirt down. "Molesting the vampire while he's too weak to fight back, Iz?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure that violates at least one of the Accords." "I'm just showing him where he got stabbed," Isabelle protested, but she scooted back to her chair with a certain amount of haste.

When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw.

Clary," Jace said again. "You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.

Demon hunting and fashion," Clary said. "I never would have thought they went together.

Simon Mignolet has been first class.

You're crying?" he said. "No, I- " I tore my gaze away. "Just dust. From the path. Simon's that way." I tried to pass him, but he stooped, trying to get a loom of my face. When I wouldn't let him, he caught my chin. I jerked back, flinching at his touch, heart thudding at it, too. I told myself Simon was wrong. I'd never be dumb enough to fall for Derek. But I had. With him so close, my stomach kept doing weird flips. It wasn't fear. It hadn't been fear for awhile. "You have been crying," he said, voice softer.

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.

Paul Simon is the king!

Sprinkling drops of lavender and clary-sage oil into a bath is a totally simple yet complex pleasure.

Sebastian never does anything just for fun.” Jace took Clary’s hand and pulled her toward him. “But I do.

I love Paul Simon... his lyrics.

I'm becoming the Simon Cowell of fashion.

Maybe, he said hesitantly, maybe there is a beast. The assembly cried out savagely and Ralph stood up in amazement. You, Simon? You believe in this? I don't know, said Simon. His heartbeats were choking him. [...] Ralph shouted. Hear him! He's got the conch! What I mean is . . . maybe it's only us. Nuts! That was from Piggy, shocked out of decorum.

I wondered if people might not have had enough of Simon Armitage and wondered whether I hadn't had enough of Simon Armitage.

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.

What's this?" "That's a mango." Simon stared at Jace. Sometimes it really is like Shadowhunters were from an alien planet. "I don't think I've seen one of those that wasn't already cut up," Jace mused. "I like mangoes." Simon grabbed the mango and tossed it into the cart. "Great. What else do you like?" Jace pondered for a moment. "Tomato soup," he said finally. "Tomato soup? You want tomato soup and a mango for dinner?" Jace shrugged. "I don't really care about food.

Jocelyn recognized reading as a sacred pastime and usually wouldn't interrupt Clary in the middle of a book, even to yell at her.

'Simon' was such a charmed experience.

Aren't you, uh..." Clary searched for the right word. "Reproducing?

I can't touch Simon anymore.

Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable, Brother Zachariah to Clary Fray

Do you ever feel like screaming?' Clary asked him [Jace]. 'Some of the time.

Clary's mother apparently reguarded him as about as sexually threatening as a goldfish.

Not everything Jace did was insane and suicidal, she reminded herself. It just seemed that way. -Clary, pg.46-

This time Magnus answered it, his voice booming through the tiny entryway. "WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST?" Jace looked almost nervous. "Jace Wayland. Remember? I'm from the Clave." "Oh, yes." Magnus seemed to have perked up. "Are you the one with the blue eyes?" "He means Alec," Clary said helpfully. "No. My eyes are usually described as golden," Jace told the intercom. "And luminous." "Oh, you're that one." Magnus sounded disappointed. If Clary hadn't been so upset, she would have laughed. "I suppose you'd better come up.

Rest assured that our work is not over because our work has never been only hunting Nazi war criminals. The Simon Wiesenthal Center is an institution, a worldwide institution, engaged in combating anti-Semitism, bigotry, racism. And unfortunately, did we say goodbye to genocide after Hitler died in the bunker? No, we didn't. So in such a world, I'm afraid there will always be a need for organizations like the Simon Wiesenthal Center.

It's not gray," Clary felt compelled to point out. "It's green." "If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood," said Jace.

Simon remembered a rhyme his mother used to recite to him, about magpies. You were supposed to count them and say: one for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret that's never been told. "Right," simon said. He had already lost count of the numbers of birds there were. Seven, he guessed. A secret that's never been told. Whatever that was.

I was in a tsunami with Simon Amstell.