#stairs

I always loved you, Will, whatever you did. And now I need you to do for me what I cannot do for myself. For you to be my eyes when I do not have them. For you to be my hands when I cannot use my own. For you to be my hear when mine is done with beating. No, said Will wildly. No, no, no. I will not be those things. Your eyes will see, your hands will feel, your hear will continue to beat. But if not, Will- If I could tear myself in half, I would-that half of me might remain with you and half follow Tessa- Half of you would be no good to either of us, said Jem. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#clockwork-princess #jem-carstairs #page- #love

Wo wei ni xie de,” he said, as he raised the violin to his left shoulder, tucking it under his chin. He had told her many violinists used a shoulder rest, but he did not: there was a slight mark on the side of his throat, like a permanent bruise, where the violin rested. “You — made something for me?” Tessa asked. “I wrote something for you,” he corrected, with a smile, and began to play. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #play

Jem always said that Will rushed toward the end of a mission rather than proceeding in a measured manner, and that one must look at the next step on the path ahead, rather than the destination in the distance, or one would never reach one’s goal. Will closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that Jem was right, but it was hard to remember, when the goal that he sought was the girl that he loved. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #will-herondale #love

I shall see you on Blackfriars Bridge, Tessa. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#jem-carstairs #tessa-gray #tessa-gray

I love you. And I don't want to lose you. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #love

So you are dying for love, then," Will said finally, his voice sounding constricted to his own ears. 'Dying a little faster for love. And there are worse things to die for. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#jessa #wem #will-herondale #love

Nothing makes a man feel older than to hear a band coming up the street and not to have the impulse to rush downstairs and out on to the sidewalk. ↗

— Robert Benchley

#coming #downstairs #feel #hear #impulse

I write in the afternoon, from about 12 until 6 or 7. I use an upstairs room as my office. Once I get going I keep at it, and it usually takes about six months from the first blank screen until 'The End.' ↗

— Lee Child

#afternoon #blank #end #first #get

I do have a blurred memory of sitting on the stairs and trying over and over again to tie one of my shoelaces, but that is all that comes back to me of school itself. ↗

— Roald Dahl

#back #blurred #comes #i #i do

She smiled. Her skin looked whiter than he recalled, and dark spidery veins were beginning to show beneath its surface. Her hair was still the color of spun silver and her eyes were still green as a cat’s. She was still beautiful. Looking at her, he was in London again. He saw the gaslight and smelled the smoke and dirt and horses, the metallic tang of fog, the flowers in Kew Gardens. He saw a boy with black hair and blue eyes like Alec’s, heard violin music like the sound of silver water. He saw a girl with long brown hair and a serious face. In a world where everything went away from him eventually, she was one of the few remaining constants. And then there was Camille. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#city-of-fallen-angels #jem-carstairs #magnus-bane #tessa-gray #will-herondale