The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me.
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Cassandra Clare
Judith Rumelt (born July 27, 1973), better known by her pen name Cassandra Clare, is an American author of young adult fiction, best known for her bestselling series The Mortal Instruments. 2Personal life Clare was born Judith Rumelt, to American parents, in Tehran, Iran. Her parents are Elizabeth and Richard Rumelt, who are a business school professor and author, respectively. Her maternal grandfather was film producer Max Rosenberg. Clare is Jewish, and has described her family as "not religious". As a child, Clare traveled frequently, spending time in Switzerland, England, and France. She returned to Los Angeles for high school, and from then on split her time between California and New York City, where she worked at various entertainment magazines and tabloids, including The Hollywood Reporter. While living in Los Angeles Clare began writing fan fiction using the name Cassandra Claire. The Draco Trilogy, based on Harry Potter and The Very Secret Diaries, based on The Lord of the Rings were popular. However, she deleted her fan fiction from the Internet shortly before her first novel, The City of Bones, was published under the name Cassandra Clar
People aren’t born good or bad. Maybe they’re born with tendencies either way, but it’s the way you live your life that matters.
What was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?
I didn't call you because I'm tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else.
The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him.
I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there’s a life after that, I’ll love you then.
I feel like you can look inside me and see all the places I am odd or unusual and fit your heart around them, for you are odd and unusual in just the same way. We are the same.
She leaned forward and caught at his hand, pressing it between her own. The touch was like white fire through his veins. He could not feel her skin only the cloth of her gloves, and yet it did not matter. You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always…
I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.
I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.
I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.
She had loved him for such a long time, she thought. How was it that she did now know him at all?