Isabelle Was Holding An Umbrella. It Was

To Draw Something Is To Try To Capture It Forever.

I Choose To Be With Him For However Many Days Or Minutes We Are Granted, And To Count Myself Blessed To Have Them.

Words Were Weapons, His Father Had Taught Him That, And He'd Wanted To Hurt Clary More Than He'd Ever Wanted To Hurt Any Girl. In Fact, He Wasn't Sure He Had Ever Wanted To Hurt A Girl Before. Usually He Just Wanted Them, And Then He Wanted Them To Leave Him Alone.

Words Have The Power To Change Us.

Please Don’t Do This—don’t Do This To Me. If Anything Happened To You—” He Looked At Her With Surprise. There Was Already A Red Stain On The White Bandages That Wrapped His Chest, Where His Movements Had Pulled His Wound Open. “i…” “what?” “i’m Not Used To You Loving Me,” He Said.