As Long As I Can Dream, I

If People Ever Look Down Upon You For Crying For Fictional Characters, You Should Give Them A Gentle, Pitying Look And Feel Bad For Them. If They've Never Cried For A Fictional Character, Then They've Never Loved One (and What A Joy That Is). If They've Never Cried At A Book, A Movie, A Piece Of Music, Then They've Missed One Of The Great Pleasures Life Has To Offer. Just Because Fiction Does Not Contain Things That Are Real Doesn't Mean It Doesn't Contain Truth, And We Find It Through The Alchemy Of Our Tears.

Clary Sat Back. "you Don't Just Get To Say No." "this Plan Involves Me! I Get To Say No! No." "simon -" Simon Patted The Seat Beside Him As If Someone Were Sitting There. "let Me Introduce You To My Good Friend No.

It Was Dark In The Alcove, So Dark That Jace Was Only An Outline Of Shadows And Gold. His Body Pinned Clary's To The Wall. His Hands Slid Down Along Her Body And Reached The End Of Her Dress, Drawing It Up Along Her Legs. "what Are You Doing?" She Whispered. "jace?" He Looked At Her. The Peculiar Light In The Club Turned His Eyes An Array Of Fractured Colors. His Smile Was Wicked. "you Can Tell Me To Stop Whenever You Want," He Said. "but You Won't.

What's An Ebay?" "a Mythical Place Of Great Magical Power." - Jace Wayland And Clary Fray (city Of Bones)

Years Later Magnus Would Return To London And Camille Belcourt's Side, And Find It Not All That He Had Dreamed. Years Later Another Desperate Herondale Boy With Blue, Blue Eyes Would Come To His Door, Shaking With The Cold Of The Rain And His Own Wretchedness, And This One Magnus Would Be Able To Help.