Clary wondered how many boyfriends she'd turned into rats by accident. -Clary to Isabelle, pg. 245-
…there was something about her that made you feel it was safe to tell her secrets.
There are many worse friends than the soft, silent, furry, cat-folk.
A good laugh is as good as a prayer sometimes.
She wanted to be alone - to think things out - to adjust herself, if it were possible, to the new world in which she seemed to have been transplanted with a suddenness and completeness that left her half bewildered to her own identity.
She had a way of embroidering life with stars.
Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.
Over the years, I think I've matured in my spiritual evolution and development to understand a bit more than the narrow religious thinking - to move beyond that through a sort of perfection of the grandiose nature of the universe, and how perfect it is it in its sense and how satisfied we should all be in our place in that.
They often say woman cannot keep a secret, but every woman in the world, like every man, has a hundred secrets in her own soul which she hides from even herself. The more respectable she is, the more certain it is the secrets exist.
I think people who are creative are the luckiest people on earth. I know that there are no shortcuts, but you must keep your faith in something Greater than You, and keep doing what you love. Do what you love, and you will find the way to get it out to the world.
Well time has a way of throwing it all in your face. The past, she is haunted, the future is laced.