He Would Look So Young. They Were

If One Could Look This Fabulous, One Had An Obligation To.

Write What You Want To Read. So Many People Think They Need To Write A Particular Kind Of Book, Or Imitate A Successful Style, In Order To Be Published. I've Known People Who Felt They Had To Model Their Book On Existing Blockbusters, Or Write In A Genre That's Supposed To Be "hot Right Now" In Order To Get Agents And Publishers Interested. But If You're Writing In A Genre You Don't Like, Or Modeling Yourself On A Book You Don't Respect, It'll Show Through. You're Your First, Most Important Reader, So Write The Book That Reader Really Wants To Read.

He Taught Me There's A Place On A Man's Back Where, If You Sink A Blade In, You Can Pierce His Heart And Sever His Spine, All At Once,' Sebastian Had Said. 'i Guess We Got The Same Birthday Present That Year, Big Brother,' Jace Thought. 'didn't We?

Tessa Had Begun To Tremble. This Is What She Had Always Wanted Someone To Say. What She Had Always, In The Darkest Corner Of Her Heart, Wanted Will To Say. Will, The Boy Who Loved The Same Books She Did, The Same Poetry She Did, Who Made Her Laugh Even When She Was Furious. And Here He Was Standing In Front Of Her, Telling Her He Loved The Words Of Her Heart, The Shape Of Her Soul. Telling Her Something She Had Never Imagined Anyone Would Ever Tell Her. Telling Her Something She Would Never Be Told Again, Not In This Way. And Not By Him. And It Did Not Matter. "it's Too Late", She Said.

She Warned Me About Mr. Herondale, Though, Said He’d Likely Be Rude To Me, And Familiar. She Said I Could Be Rude Right Back, That Nobody Would Mind.” “someone Ought To Be Rude To Him. He’s Rude Enough To Everyone Else.