Not All That Is Mortal Is Useless.

I Get A Lot Of Inspiration From Research In Mythology And Folklore, I Find That Stories People Told Each Other Thousands Of Years Ago Are Still Relevant Now.

One Of The Heavy Marble Busts That Lined The Higher Shelves Had Slid Free And Was Falling Toward Her; She Ducked Out Of Its Way, And It Hit The Floor Inches From Where She'd Been Standing, Leaving A Sizable Dent In The Floor. A Second Later Jace's Arms Were Around Her And He Was Lifting Her Off Her Feet. She Was Too Surprized To Struggle As He Carried Her Over To The Broken Window And Dumped Her Unceremoniously Out Of It.

His Blue Eyes Were Very Dark...will's Were The Colour Of The Sky Just On The Edge Of The Night.

It Was Books That Made Me Feel That Perhaps I Was Not Completely Alone. They Could Be Honest With Me, And I With Them.

There Was Something About Jace, Though, That Made Her Want To Push Him, Crack That Shell Of Cynicism And Make Him Admit Her Believed Something, Felt Something, Cared About Anythinng At All.