You Might Want To Put Some Clothes

It Would Be One Thing If I Had Been Cursed So That Everyone I Loved Would Die," Said Will. "i Could Keep Myself From Loving. To Keep Others From Caring For Me--it Is An Odd, Exhausting Procedure.

His Beauty Did Not Blaze Like Will's Did In Fierce Colors And Repressed Fire, But It Had Its Own Muted Perfection, The Loveliness Of Snow Falling Against A Silver Gray Sky.

Will Closed His Eyes. He Could Not Hear Jem Go, Not Anymore; He Did Not Want To Know The Moment When He Left And Will Was Alone, Did Now Want To Know When His First Day As A Shawdowhunter Without A Parabatai Truly Began. And If The Place Over His Heart, Where His Parabatai Rune Had Been, Flared Up With A Sudden Burning Pain As The Door Closed Behind Jem, Will Told Himself It Was Only A Stray Ember From The Fire.

He Took Her By The Shoulders And Pulled Her Closer To Him, His Fingers Knotting In The Fabric Of Her Dress. Even More Than In The Attic, She Felt Caught In The Eddy Of A Powerful Wave That Threatened To Pull Her Over And Under, To Crush And Break Her, To Wear Her Down To Softness As The Sea Might Wear Down A Piece Of Glass.

I Adore Wilkie Collins,” Tessa Cried. “oh—armadale! And The Woman In White … Are You Laughing At Me?” “not At You,” Said Will, Grinning, “more Because Of You. I’ve Never Seen Anyone Get So Excited Over Books Before. You’d Think They Were Diamonds.” “well, They Are, Aren’t They? Isn’t There Anything You Love Like That? And Don’t Say ‘spats’ Or ‘lawn Tennis’ Or Something Silly.” “good Lord,” He Said With Mock Horror, “it’s Like She Knows Me Already.