Across from it was a long dedication, the ink faded now and barely legible, though Clary could make out the signature: With hope at last, William Herondale.
To love one another is to come as close as we ever can to being angels ourselves.
We are none of us perfect, and no one expects perfection. But when you have hurt people, you must allow them their anger. Otherwise it will only become another thing you have tried to take away.
Someone who broke your heart is often not the person who can mend it.
You cannot save people who do not want to be saved,” said Magnus. “You can only stand by their side and hope that when they wake and realize they need saving, you will be there to help them.
Well, you know what they say,” said James. “All the best men are either married or Silent Brothers.
You must stop this,” he said. “You will make yourself unworthy by considering yourself unworthy. We become what we are afraid we will be.
We have talked so much of travel,” James said. “I wanted to give you the world.
One should not questions miracles too closely.
He had only felt agony when she was not there, and assumed that that was love. We suffer for love because love is worth it, his father has told him once: James had thought that meant that to love was to endure anguish. He had not realised his father had meant there should be joy to balance the pain.
Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?
You may fear what will happen if you speak your heart. You may wish to hide things because you fear hurting others. But secrets have a way of eating at relationships, Jamie. At love, at friendship – they undermine and destroy them until in the end you find you are bitterly alone with the secrets you kept.
How much love people have denied themselves through the ages because they believed they did not deserve it. As if the waste of love is not the greater tragedy.
I believe that decadence is a valuable perspective that should always be considered.
It’s never a tragedy to love somebody.
There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.
James had never imagined that the hardest thing he would ever do in his life was nothing at all.
Matthew has a habit of getting his heart broken. He seems to prefer a hopeless love.
Thomas had very nice shoulders. Legendary shoulders, in fact.
We are not here just to forget, but also to remember there are good and beautiful things in the world, always. And mistakes do not take them from us; nothing takes them from us. They are eternal.
When I am with you, I imagine that my heart is beating, though it has not beaten for seven years. You give me so much, and I can give you nothing at all.