Top Jace Wayland City Of Bones Quotes

Browse top 18 famous quotes and sayings about Jace Wayland City Of Bones by most favorite authors.

Favorite Jace Wayland City Of Bones Quotes

1. "Yes," Jace said, "I regret having disobeyed you."No! Clary thought, but her heart sank. Was he giving up, did he think it was the only way to save her and Simon?Valentine's face softened. "Jonathan-""Especially," Jace said, "since I plan to do it again. Right now."
Author: Cassandra Clare
2. "This one incident I will not allow you to shrug off!""I wasn't planning to," Jace said. "I can't shrug anything off. My shoulder's dislocated."-Hodge & Jace, pg.296-"
Author: Cassandra Clare
3. "The moon had risen behind him, the color of a shark's underbelly. It lit the ruined walls, and the skin of his arms and hands, with its sickly light, making him long for a mirror in which to study his face. Surely he'd be able to see the bones beneath the meat; the skull gleaming the way his teeth gleamed when he smiled. After all, wasn't that what a smile said? Hello, world, this is the way I'll look when the wet parts are rotted."
Author: Clive Barker
4. "The black shape of it running from dark to dark. Then a distant low rumble. Not thunder. You could feel it under your feet. A sound without cognate and so without description. Something imponderable shifting out there in the dark. The earth itself contracting with the cold. It did not come again. What time of year? What age the child? … The silence. The salitter drying from the earth. The mudstained shapes of flooded cities burned to the waterline. At a crossroads a ground set with dolmen stones where the spoken bones of oracles lay moldering. No sound but the wind."
Author: Cormac McCarthy
5. "...there was still the thrill of those opening credits that carried us through the harder times, that sustained our faith in a city that often didn't show much faith in us."
Author: David Levithan
6. "After the storm the city lies becalmed. It is a sunny morning, still and cold. Branches litter the streets like broken limbs. People clear away the wreckage. They swarm around like ants whose anthill has been scuffed; how doggedly they rebuild their lives."
Author: Deborah Moggach
7. "Two things significantly distinguish human beings from the other animals; an interest in the past and the possibility of language. Brought together they make a third: Art. The invisible city not calculated to exist. Beyond the lofty pretensions of the merely ceremonial, long after the dramatic connivings of plitical life, like it or not, it remains. Time past eternally present and undestroyed."
Author: Jeanette Winterson
8. "You! You tricked me! I never want to see you or that bottle of liquid arsenic again!"I chucked the empty moonshine jug at him. Or tried to. It missed him by a dozen feet.He picked it up in astonishment. "You drank the whole bloody thing? You were only supposed to have a few sips!""Did you say that? Did you?" He reached me just as I felt the ground tip. "Didn't say anything. I've got those names, so that's all that matters, but you men…you're all alike. Alive, dead, undead—all perverts! I had a drunken pervert in my pants! Do you know how unsanitary that is?"Bones held me upright. I would have protested, but I couldn't remember how to. "What are you saying?""Winston poltergeisted my panties, that's what!" I announced with a loud hiccup."Why, you scurvy, lecherous spook!" Bones yelled in the direction of the cemetery. "If my pipes still worked, I'd go right back there and piss on your grave!"
Author: Jeaniene Frost
9. "In the city fields Contemplating cherry-trees...Strangers are like friends"
Author: Kobayashi Issa
10. "At eighteen, she already looks like a woman of sorrows and as her breaths start becoming shorter, tired of looking over her shoulder, she only wants to get away from this city where no one can fathom her love- boundless and profane and real, like her skin and her lips and the insides of her thighs. She knows she can smile, smell like the others. Her skin would bleed too if pricked and yet this reality does not belong to the ones sleeping on the platform floor; this reality is hers and her alone. Thus when she puts the mirror back, she rummages in her handbag, searching for that thing called identity: some of it lost somewhere in the railway colony she had just left behind, some in Sudhanshu's left jacket pocket, the rest of it scattered here around broken teacups on railings, totally aberrant and arbitrary."
Author: Kunal Sen
11. "The chief function of the city is to convert power into form, energy into culture, dead matter into the living symbols of art, biological reproduction into social creativity."
Author: Lewis Mumford
12. "Three days in a city now and I'm quite flipped. There's too much noise. I just can't do with it."
Author: Lou Harrison
13. "I'm not a good tourist. I don't like walking around and looking at things. I like being in a city and working and finding out how other people live."
Author: Marian Seldes
14. "I call these lessons ‘learned on the fly' because the knowledge gained from the experiences connected with them were very much akin to the spirit of the centerfielder in baseball running backward at full speed, looking towards the heavens, trying to not lose sight of the ball or fail to notice the sensation of gravel from the warning track under his cleats as he knowingly approaches the blindside impact of an outfield wall. His focused intention guides him into trying to make the catch that will save the game for his team, his city and the harmony of the moment, despite the foreboding threat of a pending collision. Decisions in these situations are made in an instant. One weighs the purpose of the game, the success of the catch and one's own safety of survival in a fleeting moment, and in all hopes one lives to tell about it in the glow of great success."
Author: Michael Delaware
15. "My bones are tired from all the tragedy in me."
Author: Peter Krause
16. "My dear Homer, if you are really only once removed from the truth, with reference to virtue, instead of being twice removed and the manufacturer of a phantom, according to our definition of an imitator, and if you need to be able to distinguish between the pursuits which make men better or worse, in private and in public, tell us what city owes a better constitution to you, as Lacedaemon owes hers to Lycurgus, and as many cities, great and small, owe theirs to many other legislators? What state attributes to you the benefits derived from a good code of laws? Italy and Sicily recognize Charondas in this capacity, and we solon. But what state recognizes you."
Author: Plato
17. "...when London is a grass-grown path and all those hurrying along the pavement this Wednesday morning are but bones with a few wedding rings mixed up in their dust and the gold stoppings of innumerable decayed teeth"
Author: Virginia Woolf
18. "Squatting on old bones and excrement and rusty iron, in a white blaze of heat, a panorama of naked idiots stretches to the horizon. Complete silence - their speech centres are destroyed - except for the crackle of sparks and the popping of singed flesh as they apply electrodes up and down the spine. White smoke of burning flesh hangs in the motionless air. A group of children have tied an idiot to a post with barbed wire and built a fire between his legs and stand watching with bestial curiosity as the flames lick his thighs. His flesh jerks in the fire with insect agony."
Author: William S. Burroughs

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Same day, 11 o'clock p. m..—Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything, except of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital `severe tea' at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little oldfashioned inn, with a bow window right over the seaweedcovered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have shocked the `New Woman' with our appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls."
Author: Bram Stoker

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