There Have Always Been Readers Throughout History

Mom. I Have Something To Tell You. I’m Undead. Now, I Know You May Have Some Preconceived Notions About The Undead. I Know You May Not Be Comfortable With The Idea Of Me Being Undead. But I’m Here To Tell You That Undead Are Just Like You And Me … Well, Okay. Possibly More Like Me Than You.

Hi, I'm One Of The Knife-carrying Hooligans You Met Last Night In Pandemonium? I'm Afraid I Made A Bad Impression And Was Hoping You'd Give Me A Chance To Make It Up To-" "simon!

Luke Moved As Silently As Fog, While Maryse's Heels Sounded Like Gunshots On The Marble Floor. Clary Wondered If Isabelle's Propensity For Unsuitable Footwear Was Genetic.

Alec Drew His Hand Back With A Low Whistle. "the Inquisitor Meant Business." "of Course She Did. I'm A Dangerous Criminal. Or Hadn't You Heard?" Jace Heard The Acid In His Own Tone, Saw Alec Flinch, And Was Meanly, Momentarily, Glad. "she Didn't Call You A Criminal, Exactly..." "no, I'm Just A Very Naughty Boy. I Do All Sorts Of Bad Things. I Kick Kittens. I Make Rude Gestures At Nun

Was This What It Meant To Love Someone? That Any Burden Was A Burden Shared, That They Could Give You Comfort With A Word Or A Touch?