Cassandra Clare’s “City of Glass” Quotes (73 Quotes)

Did you ever think that in a past life Alec was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? Because I do,

I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else someone who will never love you back, not the way I do.

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.

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.

Doing the right thing because you love someone sucks sometimes.

In the end that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did.

She had no recollection, later, of having decided what to do next, or of having hunted for something to wear, but somehow she was hurrying down the stairs, dressed in shadowhunter gear, the letter in one hand and the chain with the ring clasped hastily around her throat.

There are some kinds of wounds you can get, internal injuries. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you're bleeding to death slowly inside.

From the first time I saw you, I've belonged to you completely. I still do. If you want me. -Jace

Is that why you didn't call me? Because I'm an idiot?

She had thought she was going to save her mother, and now there was going to be nothing for her to do but sit by her mother's bedside, hold her limp hand, and home someone else, somewhere else, would be able to do what she couldn't.

There was an electric anger in his gaze, and a sort of challenge that made Simon long to hit him with something heavy. Like a pickup truck.

Glory?....Glory belongs to God alone.

It sucked to be old enough to want to know what was going on, but so young you were always dismissed.

She looked out then, through the crowd, and saw Simon with the Lightwoods, looking at her across the empty space that separated them. It was the same way that Jace had looked at her at the manor. It was the one thread that bound these two boys that she loved so much, she thought, their one commonality: They both believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.

We may not be all that bright, Jace said, but at least we are alive.

Hail and Farewell, my brother.

It was only recently that Isabelle had realized other girls weren't just for envying, avoiding, or disliking.

She supposed they were imperfections, those marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body, the map of a life of endless war.

What doesn't kill...better start running.

All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.

He'd woken up the next day in the city hospital with Magnus Bane staring down at him with an odd expression--it could have been deep concern or merely curiosity, it was hard to tell with Magnus.

I've been wandering around all night-I couldn't sleep-and I kept finding myself walking here. To you.

She thought of the way Jace had looked at her then, the blaze of faith in his eyes, his belief in her. He had always thought she was strong. He had showed it in everything he did, in every look and every touch. Simon had faith in her too, yet when he'd held her, it had been as if she were something fragile, something made of delicate glass. But Jace had held her with all the strength he had, never wondering if she could take it -- he'd known she was as strong as he was.

Whatever doesn't kill me...had better start running.

And in some way, Clary thought, he meant it, meant his gratitude. He had long ago lost the ability to distinguish between force and cooperation, between fear and willingness, between love and torture. And with that realization came a rush of numbness-what was the point of hating Valentine for being a monster when he didn't even know he was one?

How had it happened, Simon thought, that he was bound to these people-to people who thought of him as nothing more than a Downworlder, half human at best?

Jace likes to pretend that everyone isn't talking about him, even when he knows they are.

She threw the door open. The room seemed to be a sort of library, the walls lined with books. It was brightly lit, light streaming through a tall picture window. In the middle of the room stood Jace. He wasn't alone, though-not by a long shot. There was a dark-haired girl with him, a girl Clary had never seen before, and the two of them were locked together in a passionate embrace

When you told me the first time that Valentine was your father, I didn't believe it. Not just because I didn't want it to be true, but because you weren't anything like him. I've never thought you're anything like him. But you are. You are.

Appearances are significant, and never more than in politics. You can always sway the crowd, provided you have a good story.

I have the benefit of experience which tells me that sulking solves nothing

Just like an alley in New York -like every alley in the world, apparently- it smelled like cat pee.

She wondered why she'd ever thought trusting someone who wore that much eyeliner was a good idea.

Why do you do these things to yourself? Not just what you did to the window, but the way you talked to Clary. What are you punishing yourself for? You can't help how you feel.

As if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. Since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely.

I love you and I'll love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, I will love you then.

Keeping demons from this world is your mandate, a mandate from heaven. And a mandate from heaven isn't something you can just ignore.

She'd always had such contempt for mundanes, the way all Shadowhunters did--she'd believed that they were soft, stupid, sheeplike in their complacency. Now she wondered if all that hatred didn't just stem from the fact that she was jealous. It must be nice not worrying that every time one of your family members walked out the door, they'd never come back.

You can only push the truth down for so long, and then it bubbles back up.

Because that was what you did with family when you'd been worried about them, you grabbed them and held on to them and told them how much they'd pissed you off, and it was okay, because no matter how angry you got, they still belonged to you.

I only count the hours that shine.

Knowing is better than not knowing. Every time.

She'd been impressed by his looks at first--those sharply planed cheekbones and those black, fathomless eyes--but his affable, sympathetic personality grated on her now. She didn't like boys who looked as if they never got mad about anything. In Isabelle's world, rage equaled passion equaled a good time.

You could have anything else in the world. and you asked for me.

Because you told me you don't have feelings for me anymore, and you see, that's very akward, because I still have them for you. And I bet you know it.

I see that you are working this vampire angle with some success. And kudos. Lots of girls love that sensitive-undead thing. But I'd drop the whole musician angle if I were you. Vampire rock stars are played out, and besides, you can't possible be very good.

Looking at him now-even if she hadn't been in love with him, that part of her that was her mother's daugher, that loved every beautiful thing for its beauty alone, would still have wanted him.

Some Laws were meant to be broken.

You couldnt erase everything that caused you pain with recollection.Every memory was valuable; even the bad ones