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Cassandra Clare

Cassandra Clare was born to American parents in Tehran, Iran and spent much of her childhood travelling the world with her family, including one trek through the Himalayas as a toddler where she spent a month living in her father’s backpack. She lived in France, England and Switzerland before she was ten years old.

Since her family moved around so much she found familiarity in books and went everywhere with a book under her arm. She spent her high school years in Los Angeles where she used to write stories to amuse her classmates, including an epic novel called “The Beautiful Cassandra” based on a Jane Austen short story of the same name (and which later inspired her current pen name).

After college, Cassie lived in Los Angeles and New York where she worked at various entertainment magazines and even some rather suspect tabloids where she reported on Brad and Angelina’s world travels and Britney Spears’ wardrobe malfunctions. She started working on her YA novel, City of Bones, in 2004, inspired by the urban landscape of Manhattan, her favourite city. She turned to writing fantasy fiction full time in 2006 and hopes never to have to write about Paris Hilton again.

Cassie’s first professional writing sale was a short story called “The Girl’s Guide to Defeating the Dark Lord” in a Baen anthology of humor fantasy. Cassie hates working at home alone because she always gets distracted by reality TV shows and the antics of her cats, so she usually sets out to write in local coffee shops and restaurants. She likes to work in the company of her friends, who see that she sticks to her deadlines.

City of Bones was her first novel. Sword Catcher is her most recent novel.


“You look happy," he said to Clary. He swiveled his gaze to Jace. "And a good thing for you that she does."Jace raised an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you tell me that if I hurt her, you'll kill me?""No," said Simon, "If you hurt Clary, she's quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons."Jace looked pleased by the thought.”
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“Sorry I overheard that, but I'm glad he's staying," Luke's sister said. "Not just because he'll be near me but because it gives him a chance to get over you." Jocelyn sounded defensive. "Amatis-" "It's been a long time, Jocelyn," Amatis said. "If you don't love him, you ought to let him go." Jocelyn was silent. Clary wished she could see her mother's expression- did she looked sad? Angry? Resigned? Amatis gave a little gasp. "Unless- you do love him?" "Amatis, I can't-" "You do! you do!" There was a sharp sound, as if Amatis had clapped her hands together. "I knew you did! I always knew it!" "It doesn't matter." Jocelyn sounded tired. "It wouldn't be fair to Luke." "I don't want to hear it." There was a rustling noise, and Jocelyn made a sound of protest. Clary wondered if Amatis had actually grabbed hold of her mother. "If you love him, you go right now and tell him. Right now, before he goes to the Council." "But they want him to be their Council member! And he wants to-" "All Lucian wants," said Amatis firmly, "is you. You and Clary. That's all he ever wanted. Now go." Before Clary had a chance to move, Jocelyn dashed out into the hallway. She headed toward the door- and saw Clary, flattened against the wall. Halting, she opened her mouth in surprise. "Clary!" She sounded as if she were trying to make her voice bright and cheerful, and failed miserably. "I didn't realize you were here." Clary stepped away from the wall, grabbed hold of the doorknob, and threw the door wide open. Bright sunlight poured into the hall. Jocelyn stood blinking in the harsh illumination, her eyes on her daughter. "If you don't go after Luke," Clary said, enunciating very clearly, "I, personally, will kill you." For a moment Jocelyn looked astonished. Then she smiled. "Well," she said, "if you put it like that." A moment later she was out of the house, hurrying down the canal path toward the Accords Hall. Clary shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Amatis, emerging from the living room, darted past her to lean on the window sill, glancing aniously out through the pane. "Do you think she'll catch him before he gets to the Hall?" "My mom's spent her whole life chasing me around," Clary said. "She moves fast.”
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“You can take your Law," she said in a measured tone, "and shove it right up your-”
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“Isabelle," she said, lightening her tone with an obvious effort, "your loyalty to your friend is understandable --""He's not my friend." Isabelle looked over at Jace, who was staring at her in a sort of daze. "He's my brother.”
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“At last he reached out and with a gentle hand, closed Valentine’s eyes."Ave atque vale, Shadowhunter," he said.”
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“As Luke knelt down beside his corpse, Clary couldn’t help but remember what he had said about having loved Valentine once, about having been his closest friend. Luke, she thought with a pang. Surely he couldn’t be sad — or even grieved?But then again, perhaps everyone should have someone to grieve for them, and there was no one else to grieve for Valentine.”
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“But the name Magnus Bane made him think of a towering sort of figure, with huge shoulders and formal purple warlock’s robes, calling down fire and lightning. Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf.”
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“WHO CALLS UPON THE HIGH WARLOCK?”
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“Izzy. My sister. She told me you liked me. Liked me, liked me.”“Liked you, liked you?” Magnus buried his grin in the cat’s fur. “Sorry. Are we twelve now? I don’t recall saying anything to Isabelle . . .”
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“Lightwoods,” Magnus said. “They always have to have the last word.”
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“Lobos.Bueno, esto sí que es una situación”
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“Clary notó que alguien la agarraba de la muñeca.Forcejeó para desasirse.Para...,idiota...,soy yo -jadeó Jace en su oído.¡Ah!”
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“¿Qué es todo esto?-Frascos de agua bendita, cuchillos bendecidos, hojas de acero y plata. Cable de oro argentífero...,y aunque no nos sirve de gran cosa en este momento, pero siempre es bueno tener una reserva...,balas de plata, amuletos de protección, crucifijos, estrellas de David.-Jesús -exclamó Clary.-Dudo que él cupiera aquí. [pp. 272]”
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“But it was Valentine. I saw him. In fact, he had the Sword with him when he came down to the cells and taunted me through the bars. It was like a bad movie, except he didn't actually twirl his mustache. - Jace Wayland”
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“... In fact, it wouldn't hurt if you just spent the next few days inside. You can lock yourself in your room like Isabelle." "I'm not gonna do that." "Of course your not," said Jace, "because you live to torture me, don't you?" "Not everything, Jace, is about you," Clary said furiously. "Possibly," Jace said, "but you have to admit that the majority of things are." Clary resisted the urge to scream.”
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“If you lay one hand on Simon, vampire, I'll have you chopped up into tiny pieces and fed to my cat. Understand?”
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“Well," said Clary, after a judicious pause, "I guess you wouldn't have taken advantage of her when she's so grief-stricken and all." Simon snorted. "If you ever meet the man who could take advantage of Isabelle, you'll have to let me know. I'd like to shake his hand. Or run away from him very fast, I'm not sure which.”
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“What about Isabelle?" Simon asked. "Where is she?" The humor, such as it was, left Jace's expression. "She won't come out of her room," he said. "She thinks that what happened to Max was her fault. She won't even come to the funeral." "Have you tried talking to her?" "No," Jace said, "we've been punching her repeatedly in the face instead. Why, do you think that won't work?" "Just thought I'd ask." Simon's tone was mild.”
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“Samuel! Are you alright?" A vision of Samuel being brained by the falling bars rose up before Simon's eyes. Samuel's voice rose to a scream. "GO AWAY!" Simon looked sideways at Jace. "I think he means it." Jace shook his blond head in exasperation. "You had to make a crazy jail friend, didn't you? You couldn't just count ceiling tiles or tame a pet mouse like normal prisoners do?”
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“Simon!" The voice was faint, but his hearing caught it over the pop and crackle of glowing flames. The smoke in the corridor had presaged heat; the heat was here now, pressing against him like an oppressive wall. "Simon!" The voice was Clary's. He would know it anywhere. He wondered if his mind was conjuring it up now, a sense of memory of what he'd most loved during life to carry him throught the process of death. "Simon, you stupid idiot! I'm over here! At the window!" Simon jumped to his feet. he doubted his mind would conjure that up.”
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“... We are Nephilim; we fight our own battles." "That's not precisely true, is it?" said a velvety voice. It was Magnus Bane, wearing a long and glittering coat, multiple hoops in his ears, and a roguish expression. Clary had no idea where he'd come from. "You lot have used the help of warlocks on more than one occasion in the past, and paid handsomely for it too." Malachi scowled. "I don't remember the Clave inviting you into the Glass City, Magnus Bane." "They didn't," Magnus said. "Your wards are down." "Really?" the Consul's voice dripped sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed." Magnus looked concerned. "That's terrible. Someone should have told you." He glanced at Luke. "Tell him the wards are down.”
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“...; Clary saw the group of lycanthropes look up, alert as a group of hunting dogs senting game. She turned- And saw Luke, tired and bloodstained, coming through the double doors of the Hall. She ran toward him. Forgetting how upset she'd been when he'd left, and forgetting how angry he'd been with her for bringing them here, forgetting everything but how glad she was to see him. He looked surprised for a moment as she barreled toward him- then he smiled, and put his arms out, and picked her up as he hugged her, the way he'd done when she'd been very small. He smelled like blood and flannel and smoke, and for a moment she closed her eyes, thinking of the way Alec had grabbed onto Jace the moment he'd seen him in the Hall, because that was what you did with family when you'd been worried about them, you grabbed them and held on to them and told them how much they'd pissed you off, and it was okay, becaused no matter how angry you got, they still belonged to you. And what she had said to Valentine was true. Luke was her family.”
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“But Clary never found out what it wasn't, because there was a cry of "Jace!" and Alec appeared, breathless from pushing his way through the crowd to get them. His dark hair was a mess and there was blood on his clothes, but his eyes were bright with a mixture of relief and anger. He grabbed Jace by the front of his jacket. "What happened to you?" Jace looked affronted. "What happened to me?" Alec looked at him, not lightly. "You said you were going for a walk! What kind of walk takes six hours?" "A long one?" Jace suggested.”
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“I'm seven hundred years old, Alexander. I know when something isn't going to work. You won't even admit I exist to your parents." Alec stared at him. "I thought you were three hundred! You're seven huundred years old?" "Well," Magnus amended, "eight hundred. But I dont look it. Anyway, you're missing the point. The point is-" But Alec never found out what the point was because at that moment a dozen more Iblis demons flooded into the square. He felt his jaw drop. "Damn it." Magnus followed his gaze. the demons were already fanning out into a half circle around them, their yellow eyes glowing. "Way to change the subject, Lightwood.”
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“Alec?" Magnus was staring at him. He had dispatched the remaining Iblis demons, and the square was empty but for the two of them. "Did you just- did you just save my life?" Alec knew he ought to say something like, Of course, because I'm a Shadowhunter and that's what we do, or That's my job. Jace would have said something like that. Jace always knew the right thing to say. But the words that actually came out of Alec's mouth where quite different- and sounded petulant, even to his own ears. "You never called me back," he said. "I called you so many times and you never called me back." Magnus looked at Alec as if he'd lost his mind. "Your city is under attack," he said. "The wards have broken, and the streets are full of demons. And you want to know why I haven't called you?”
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“Do people ever climb the demon towers? Like, for any reason?" Aline looked up. "Climb the demon towers?" She laughed. "No, no one ever does that. It's totally illegal, for one thing, and besides, why would you want to?" Aline, Isabelle thought, did not have much imagination. She herself could think of lots of reasons why someone might want to climb the demon towers, if only to spit gum down on passerbys below.”
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“One of the heavy marble busts that lined the higher shelves had slid free and was falling toward her; she ducked out of its way, and it hit the floor inches from where she'd been standing, leaving a sizable dent in the floor. A second later Jace's arms were around her and he was lifting her off her feet. She was too surprized to struggle as he carried her over to the broken window and dumped her unceremoniously out of it.”
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“I'm here," she said, skidding to a stop. "Can we go now?" Sebastian insisted on helping her on with the coat. "I don't think anyone's ever helped me with my coat before," Clary observed, freeing the hair that had gotten trapped under her collar. "Well, maybe waiters. Were you ever a waiter?" "No, but I was brought up by a Frenchwoman," Sebastian reminded her. "It involves an even more rigorous course of training.”
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“He was standing leaning against the door frame; now he stood up straight. "How should I have kissed you? Is there an other way you like it?”
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“Si insisten en repudiar aquello que es desagradable en lo que hace -dijo Magnus, mirando aún a Alec-, jamás aprenderán de sus errores.”
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“Dicen que la compasión es algo amargo, pero es mejor que el odio. [pp. 247]”
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“¿Si te das de bruces contra una pared psíquica, acabas con moretones psíquicos?. pensó ella. [pp. 245]”
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“Incluso vestido de cazador de demonios, se dijo Clary, Simon parecía la clase de chico que iría a recogerte a casa para salir y sería educado con tus padres y simpático con tus mascotas.Jace, por otra parte, parecía la clase de chico que pasaría por tu casa y la quemaría hasta los cimientos por diversión.[pp.228]”
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“¿Un diario sin dibujos míos en él?¿Dónde están las tórridas fantasías?¡Las cubiertas de novelas románticas?El...-¿Realmente todas las chicas que conoces se enamoran de ti? -preguntó ella en voz baja.La pregunta pareció bajarle los humos, como un alfiles pinchando un globo.-No es amor -contestó él, tras una pausa-. Al menos...-Podrías intentar no ser tan encantador todo el tiempo -indicó Clary-. Sería un alivio para todos. [pp. 219]”
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“¿Es ahora cuando empiezas a romper tiras de tela de tu camiseta para vendarme la herida? -bromeó; odiaba la visión de la sangre, en especial la suya. -Si lo que quieres es que me arranque la ropa, deberías habérmelo pedido. -Introdujo la mano en el bolsillo y sacó su estela-. Habría sido mucho menos doloroso.”
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“We?" Simon looked at him in disbelief. "Are you ever going home?""What, bored with my company already?" "Let me ask you something," Simon said. "Do you find me fascinating to be around?""What was that?" Jace said. "Sorry, I think I fell asleep for a moment. Do, continue with whatever mesmerizing thing you were saying.”
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“One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret that's never been told. ~ Simon”
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“No one told you to call your band Salacious Mold, my friend." "We're Millennium Lint now," Simon protested”
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“Isabelle glanced back at them. "They're staring at you. Maybe their master died and they're looking for another vampire to own them. You could have pets." She grinned."Or," Simon said ,"maybe they're here for the hash browns.”
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“It's my motto," said Isabelle, with a sultry smile. 'Nothing less than seven inches.'Meliorn gazed at her stonily.'I'm talking about my heels,' she said. " It's a pun. You know? A play on-""Come," the faerie knight said. "The Queen will be growing impatient." He headed down the corridor without giving Isabelle a second glance."I forgot," Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. " Faeries have no sense of humor.""Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Jace. "There's a pixie night club called Hot Wings. Not," he added," that I have ever been there.”
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“We may not be all that bright, Jace said, but at least we are alive.”
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“No entiendo por qué los mundanos siempre se disculpan por cosas que son culpa suya. [pp.189]”
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“¿Y entonces qué?-Entonces verás el mundo como es: infinito -repuso él con una seca sonrisa. [pp.187]”
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“¿Qué? -preguntó de mala gana.-Ojalá dejaras de intentar desesperadamente atraer mi atención de este modo -dijo él-. Se ha vuelto embarazoso.-El sarcasmo es el último refugio de los que tienen la imaginación en bancarrota -le respondió ella.-No puedo evitarlo.Uso mi afilado ingenio para ocultar mi dolor interior. [pp. 185]”
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“Interesting" he said. "You know, Simon never mentioned that his roommate was a werewolf.”
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“Love takes your choices away.”
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“Why is it, little Shadowhunter, that your angels are so cold and without mercy? Why do they break that which will not obey them?”
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“Dudo que enviara a un demonio rapiñador a su casa por que quisiera que <>-comentó Alec [...]No sería lo que yo haría - coincidió Jace. Primero los dulces y las flores, luego las cartas de disculpa y a continuación las horas de demonios rapiñadores. En ese orden.”
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“Hay algo en ti que resulta tan...-¿Irritante?-Perturbador”
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“He felt his heart, which no longer beat, contract, and he wondered if there was anything in the world as painful as not being able to protect the people you loved.”
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