Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare [Quotes]

“You are not really dying,” he said, the oddest tone to his voice, “are you?”

Jem nodded. “So they tell me.”

“I am sorry,” Will said.

“No,” Jem said softly. He drew his jacket aside and took a knife from the belt at his waist. “Don’t be ordinary like that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say you’ll train with me.”

*

“Thank goodness,” he said. “I’d no idea where any of you had gone. Gabriel Lightwood’s downstairs, and he’s making the most dreadful row.”

*

“Unfortunately, you may have to delay your plans for sororicide a bit longer. Gabriel Lightwood is downstairs, and I have two words for you. Two of your favorite words, at least when you put them together.”

“‘Utter simpleton’?” inquired Will. “‘Worthless upstart’?”

Jem grinned. “’Demon pox,’” he said.

*

“It was the pox, wasn’t it? You know all about it, don’t you? Aren’t you some sort of expert?”

*

“I don’t think you can fight because you’re wearing a wedding dress,” said Jem. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Will could fight in that dress either.”

“Perhaps not,” said Will, who had ears like a bat’s. “But I would make a radiant bride.”

*

“A forty-foot worm?” Will muttered to Jem as they moved through the Italian garden, their boots— thanks to a pair of Soundless runes— making no noise on the gravel. “Think of the size of the fish we could catch.”

*

“By the Angel, it just crushed Sophocles,” noted Will as the worm vanished behind a large structure shaped like a Greek temple. “Has no one respect for the classics these days?”

*

Will did not even feel himself begin to run toward her— he realized it only when he was brought up short by Jem’s restraining hand. He turned on his parabatai wildly. “My sister—”

*

They were words she had not heard in a long time, but half-expected always, and dreamed of sometimes in nightmares that left her bolting upright, fighting for air—“ Jem,” “collapse,” “breathing,” “blood,” “Will,” “Will is with him,” “Will—”

Of course Will was with him.

*

“I said I would marry you tomorrow if I could.”

Tessa pretended to toss her head. “Tomorrow is not convenient for me, sir.”

“But you are already appropriately attired,” he said with a smile.

*

“He is all right, you know. Not hurt at all.”

“Master Jem?”

Tessa shook her head. “Gideon Lightwood.”

Sophie blushed.

*

“Achilles was murdered with a poisoned arrow, and Jason died alone, killed by his own rotting ship. Such is the fate of heroes; the Angel knows why anyone would want to be one.”

*

“Sometimes one must choose whether to be kind or honorable,” he said. “Sometimes one cannot be both.”

*

“You know that feeling,” she said, “when you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing close around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage, and you cannot let go or turn the course aside.”

*

“The habits of years are not unlearned so quickly,” Tessa said, and her eyes were sad. “Do not make the mistake of believing that he does not love you because he plays at not caring, Cecily. Confront him if you must and demand the truth, but do not make the mistake of turning away because you believe that he is a lost cause. Do not cast him from your heart. For if you do, you will regret it.”

*

Forsooth, I no longer toil in vain, To prove that demon pox warps the brain. So though ’tis pity, it’s not in vain That the pox-ridden worm was slain: For to believe in me, you all must deign.”

Jem burst out laughing. “Well, that was awful.”

“It was impromptu!”

*

“There is more to living than not dying,” he said.

*

Jem shook his head. “I cannot ask you to do something that goes against your conscience.”

“My conscience,” Will whispered. “You are my conscience. You have ever been, James Carstairs.”

*

“I am nothing if not gracious,” Will said. His eyes searched Jem’s face, that face as familiar to him as his own. “And determined. You will not leave me. Not while I live.”

*

“Jem— Jem is all the better part of myself. I would not expect you to understand. I owe him this.”

*

“You saved my life,” Will had said.

A smile had spread across Jem’s face, as brilliant as the sunrise breaking over the Thames. “That is all I ever wanted.”

*

“Jem has always given me exactly what I needed in the way that I needed it, even when I did not know myself what I required. All parabatai are devoted. We must be, to give so much of ourselves to each other, even if we gain in strength by doing so. But with Jem it is different. For so many years I needed him to live, and he kept me alive. I thought he did not know that he was doing it, but maybe he did.”

*

“I don’t know why I ever helped you.”

“You like broken things.”

Magnus took two strides across the room and seized Will’s face in his long fingers, forcing his chin up. “You are not Sydney Carton,” he said. “What good will it do you to die for James Carstairs, when he is dying anyway?”

“Because if I save him, then it is worth it—”

*

“The good suffer, the evil flourish, and all that is mortal passes away.”

*

“I have come to understand something about novels,” Tessa said.

“And what is that?”

“That they are not true.”

*

“Who am I?” he whispered. “For years I pretended I was other than I was, and then I gloried that I might return to the truth of myself, only to find there is no truth to return to. I was an ordinary child, and then I was a not very good man, and now I do not know how to be either of those things any longer. I do not know what I am, and when Jem is gone, there will be no one to show me.”

*

“Are you in love with him?” Woolsey asked— all curiosity, no jealousy. Magnus wondered what it was like to have a heart like that, or rather to have no heart at all.

“No,” Magnus said. “I have wondered that, but no. It is something else. I feel that I owe him. I have heard it said that when you save a life, you are responsible for that life. I feel I am responsible for that boy. If he never finds happiness, I will feel I have failed him. If he cannot have that girl he loves, I will feel I have failed him. If I cannot keep his parabatai by him, I will feel I failed him.”

*

Sophie vanished in a swirl of skirts. “Charlotte?” Henry sounded puzzled. “What is going on?”

“Indeed.” Will let his cutlery clatter onto his plate. “The Consul? Breaking up our breakfast time? Whatever next? The Inquisitor over for tea? Picnics with the Silent Brothers?”

“Duck pies in the park,” said Jem under his breath, and he and Will smiled at each other, just a flash, before the door opened and the Consul swept it.

*

Gideon was still for a long moment. Then Gabriel found himself hauled forward, his face mashed into the wet wool of Gideon’s overcoat while his brother held him tightly, murmuring, “All right, little brother. It’s going to be all right,” as he rocked them both back and forth in the rain.

*

Suffice it to say, the money outlaid upon hats rivals the annual income of a large estate or a small country. We fail to see why one small woman needs so many hats. She is unlikely to be concealing additional heads upon her person.

*

“What’s a gewgaw?” Gabriel asked, blinking owlishly down at the epistle he had just helped compose. Actually, Gideon had dictated most of it; Gabriel had merely moved the pen across the page. He was beginning to suspect that behind his brother’s dour facade lay an unsung comic genius.

*

Jem strode across the room and seized the packet— and the letter— off Charlotte’s desk. “I would rather insult you than lose you,” he said, and before any of them could make a move to stop him, he cast both items into the fire.

The room erupted in shouts. Henry dashed forward, but Will had already dropped to his knees before the grate and thrust both his hands into the flames.

Cecily bolted out of her chair. “Will!”

*

How could three people who cared for one another so much cause one another so much pain?

*

No one understands what you feel but me, and no one understands what I feel but you, so can we not feel together?

*

“Our hearts, they need a mirror, Tessa. We see our better selves in the eyes of those who love us. And there is a beauty that brevity alone provides.”

*

“Idris,” she whispered.

“Jessamine, we know that’s not true—”

Jessamine’s eyes flew open. The whites were tinted scarlet now, like blood in water. “You,” she said. “You of all people should have understood.” Her fingers tightened suddenly, spasmodically, on his lapel. “You are a terrible Welshman,” she said thickly, and then her chest hitched, and did not hitch again. She was dead.

*

“James?” Will said. There was a world of questions in that one word.

“She’s gone.”

*

For I wondered that others, subject to death, did live, since he whom I loved, as if he should never die, was dead; and I wondered yet more that myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he being dead. Well said one of his friends, “Thou half of my soul”; for I felt that my soul and his soul were “one soul in two bodies”: and therefore was my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved. And therefore perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I had much loved should die wholly. —Saint Augustine, Confessions, Book IV

*

He put his arms about himself as if he were cold. “I do not know who to be without him,” he said.

*

“Is that why you wrote this?” The Consul drew from his coat pocket the first letter Gabriel and Gideon had sent him. He looked at it in contempt and let it flutter to the ground. “This ridiculous missive, calculated to annoy me?”

“Did it work?”

*

I can tell you that the end of a life is the sum of the love that was lived in it, that whatever you think you have sworn, being here at the end of Jem’s life is not what is important. It was being here for every other moment. Since you met him, you have never left him and never not loved him. That is what matters.”

*

“You asked me how I, being immortal, survive so many deaths. There is no great secret. You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.”

*

Atque in pepetuum, frater, ave atque vale,” he whispered. The words of the poem had never seemed so fitting: Forever and ever, my brother, hail and farewell.

*

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. —Sarah Williams, “The Old Astronomer”

*

“And broken both your hearts? How would that have benefited me? You are as dear to me as another half of my soul, Jem. I could not be happy while you were unhappy. And Tessa— she loves you. What sort of awful monster would I be, delighting in causing the two people I love the most in the world agony simply that I might have the satisfaction of knowing that if Tessa could not be mine, she could not be anybody’s?”

*

“Will,” Jem said. “For all these years I have tried to give you what you could not give yourself.”

Will’s hands tightened on Jem’s, which were as thin as a bundle of twigs. “And what is that?”

“Faith,” said Jem. “That you were better than you thought you were. Forgiveness, that you need not always punish yourself. I always loved you, Will, whatever you did. And now I need you to do for me what I cannot do for myself. For you to be my eyes when I do not have them. For you to be my hands when I cannot use my own. For you to be my heart when mine is done with beating.”

*

“I cannot leave you to face death alone,” Will whispered, but he knew he was beaten; the sands of his will had run out.

Jem touched the parabatai rune on his shoulder, through the thin material of his nightshirt. “I am not alone,” he said. “Wherever we are, we are as one.”

*

“If there is a life after this one,” he said, “let me meet you in it, James Carstairs.”

*

“The world is a wheel,” he said. “When we rise or fall, we do it together.”

*

“I like to talk to the horses at night. They make good company. And you should not be out and about in your nightgown. There are Lightwoods wandering these halls.”

*

“You said you were pretending.” He searched her face for a moment and said slowly, “But you are not, are you? I have seen you, training, fighting. You feel it as I did. As if the floor of the Institute is the first really solid ground under your feet. As if you have found the place you belong. You are a Shadowhunter.”

*

He looked down at his hands now, with the memory of those hands laid over them. Thin hands with long fingers— all the Herondales had them. Jem had always said it was a shame he didn’t have a bit of musical talent, as his hands were made to span a piano.

*

“A very magnanimous statement, Gideon,” said Magnus.

“I’m Gabriel.”

Magnus waved a hand. “All Lightwoods look the same to me—”

*

“Don’t girls usually fall in love with their rescuers?”

….

“There are all sorts of ways of being rescued.”

*

There was Idris, of course, with Brocelind Forest and Alicante on its hill, but another map showed continents he had never seen before— and what was the Silver Sea? The Thorn Mountains? What sort of country had a purple sky?

*

“You know,” Cecily said, “you really didn’t have to throw that man through the window.”

*

“I shall!” Henry tossed the bonnet over his shoulder and picked up a round glass jar of a sparkling substance. “This is a powder that when applied to the air causes ghosts to become visible,” Henry said.

Magnus tilted the jar of shining grains up to the lamp admiringly, and when Henry beamed in an encouraging fashion, Magnus removed the cork. “It seems very fine to me,” he said, and on a whim he poured it upon his hand. It coated his brown skin, gloving one hand in shimmering luminescence. “And in addition to its practical uses, it would seem to work for cosmetic purposes. This powder would make my very skin glimmer for eternity.”

*

“Hiding here, are you?” he said. “That’s— awkward.”

“Why?” She was surprised at how ordinary her voice sounded, even calm.

“Because I had intended to hide here myself.”

*

“I think,” she said, choosing her words with care, “that any good impulse can be twisted into something evil. Look at the Magister. He does what he does because he hates the Shadowhunters, out of loyalty to his parents, who cared for him, and who were killed. It is not beyond the realm of understanding. And yet nothing excuses the result. I think when we make choices— for each choice is individual of the choices we have made before— we must examine not only our reasons for making them but what result they will have, and whether good people will be hurt by our decisions.”

*

“Perhaps, Gabriel Lightwood, I have faith in you.”

*

His hands were covered in blood, blood mixed with rain, the same rain that was washing the blood away from his chest, showing the rune as it began to fade from black to silver, changing all that had been sense in Will’s life into nonsense.

Jem was dead.

*

Will looked at the werewolves with an emotion bordering on hilarity. Did they really think they could hurt him, after what he had lost? For five years it had been his absolute truth. Jem and Will. Will and Jem. Will Herondale lives, therefore Jem Carstairs lives also. Quod erat demonstrandum. To lose an arm or a leg would be painful, he imagined, but to lose the central truth of your life felt— fatal.

*

David and Jonathan had been separated, too, by death. Separated but not divided.

“I told you before, Jem, that you would not leave me,” Will said, his bloody hand on the hilt of the dagger. “And you are still with me. When I breathe, I will think of you, for without you I would have been dead years ago. When I wake up and when I sleep, when I lift up my hands to defend myself or when I lie down to die, you will be with me. You say we are born and born again. I say there is a river that divides the dead and the living. What I do know is that if we are born again, I will meet you in another life, and if there is a river, you will wait on the shores for me to come to you, so that we can cross together.” Will took a deep breath and let go of the knife. He drew his hand back. The cut on his palm was already healing— the result of the half dozen iratzes on his skin. “You hear that, James Carstairs? We are bound, you and I, over the divide of death, down through whatever generations may come. Forever.”

*

My enemies. She thought of Nate, his hand closing on hers as he died, bloody, in her lap. She thought of Jem again, the way he never railed against his fate but faced it down bravely; she thought of Charlotte, who wept over Jessamine, though Jessie had betrayed her; and she thought of Will, who had laid down his heart for her and Jem to walk upon because he loved them more than he loved himself.

*

“After everything that’s happened,” he said, his throat starting to close with bewilderment— and something else, something he did not want to identify too closely—“ after Jem, and Will, and Jessamine, and Tessa, after your household has been very nearly cut in half, you do not wish me to believe that you have forgotten me?”

*

“If that was not my father, if I did not end my father’s life, then where is he?” Gabriel whispered “Where is my father?” and felt Charlotte reach up to draw him down, to embrace him as a mother would, holding him as he choked dryly against her shoulder, tasting tears in his throat but unable to shed them. “Where is my father?” he said again, and when she tightened her hold on him, he felt the iron in her grip, the strength of her holding him up, and wondered how he had ever thought this small woman was weak.

*

Charlotte swallowed, and Cecily wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to have someone look at her as Henry looked at Charlotte— as if she were a wonder on the earth.

*

“I will speak out for her case as well,” Gideon said. “After all, I have my father’s place on the Council— his friends will listen to me; they still owe loyalty to our family— and besides, how else can we be married?”

“What?” said Gabriel with a wild hand gesture that accidentally flipped the nearest plate onto the floor, where it shattered.

“Married?” said Henry. “You’re marrying your father’s friends on the Council? Which of them?”

*

“But you haven’t proposed,”

Gideon looked startled. “I— What?”

“You haven’t proposed,” Sophie said with equanimity. “You did announce to the whole breakfast table that you intended to marry me, but that is not a proposal. That is only a declaration. A proposal is when you ask me.”

*

Life was an uncertain thing, and there were some moments one wished to remember, to imprint upon one’s mind that the memory might be taken out later, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, and admired and recollected anew.

*

“Please forgive me, my dear Mr. Lightwood— I mean Gideon— but I must go and murder the cook. I shall be directly back.”

*

I had planned to come here and bring Will back with me, to make him see where his duty lay, and bring him home. But Will has his own ideas about duty, and honor, and the promises he has made. And I came to see that I could not bring someone home when they were already there. And I did not know how to tell you that.

*

For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear each other speak. —Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “In Memoriam A.H.H.”

*

“Do not seek revenge and call it justice.”

*

All men thought of themselves as good in the end, surely. No one believed themselves a villain.

*

My name, said the angel, was Ithuriel.

*

“Tessa,” he said. “I am alone.”

*

“Don’t say those things, Tessa. Don’t say them.”

“Why not?”

“You said I am a good man,” he said. “But I am not that good a man. And I am— I am catastrophically in love with you.”

*

“I loved Jem,” she said. “I love him still, and he loved me, but I am not anybody’s, Will. My heart is my own. It is beyond you to control it. It has been beyond me to control it.”

*

“For this I would have been damned forever. For this I would have given up everything.”

*

But the Council never found out who was destined to go unaided, for at that moment a steel blade, deadly sharp, whipped through the air behind the Consul and neatly severed his head from his body.

*

“Well,” said a very amused voice. “This is unexpected.”

*

“Listen to you,” he said. “You said ‘by the Angel.’ Like a Shadowhunter.” He kissed the side of her mouth. “I love you. God, I love you. I waited so long to say it.”

*

The Brother’s hood fell back, and his silvery hair shone out in the dim chamber like starlight. All the air rushed out of Tessa’s lungs in a single instant.

The Silent Brother was Jem.

*

“You’re dead,” Will said. “I felt you die.” And he put his hand over his heart, on his bloodstained shirt, where his parabatai rune was. “Here.”

Jem scrabbled for Will’s hand, caught it in his, and pressed the fingers of his blood brother’s hand to the inside of his own wrist. He willed his parabatai to understand. Feel my pulse, the beat of blood under the skin; Silent Brothers have hearts, and they beat. Will’s blue eyes widened. “I did not die. I changed. If I could have told you— if there was a way—”

*

“Anyone can sharpen a stick.” “It’s a staff.”

*

“Part demon and part Shadowhunter,” Charlotte murmured now, gazing down at Tessa. “What does that make her?”

Nephilim blood is dominant. A new kind of Shadowhunter. New is not always a bad thing, Charlotte.

*

“I will stay,” Cecily said. “I choose the war.”

*

“Five,” she said. Her lips and cheeks were flushed, but her gaze was steady.

“Five?” he echoed blankly.

“My rating,” she said, and smiled at him. “Your skill and technique may, perhaps, require work, but the native talent is certainly there. What you require is practice.”

“And you are willing to be my tutor?”

“I should be very insulted if you chose another,” she said, and leaned up to kiss him again.

*

Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you. Yes, he would have done that for Tessa— died to keep the ones she needed beside her— and so would Jem have done that for him or for Tessa, and so would Tessa, he thought, do that for both of them. It was a near incomprehensible tangle, the three of them, but there was one certainty, and that was that there was no lack of love between them.

*

“I had no choice. You were gone, and in my stead Will had gone after you. I did not fear death, but I feared deserting you both. This, then, was my only recourse. To live, to stand and fight.”

*

“We all have our secrets that we keep because we do not want to hurt the people who love us.”

*

“Jem?” he said. “Is it you, James?”

*

“How could I say farewell,” he said, “to you?”

*

“Change is not loss, Will. Not always.”

*

on Jem’s thin shoulders as Jem coughed blood into his shirt. “Listen to me. I am leaving, but I am living. I will not be gone from you entirely, Will. When you fight now, I will be still by you. When you walk in the world, I will be the light at your side, the ground steady under your feet, the force that drives the sword in your hand. We are bound, beyond the oath. The Marks did not change that. The oath did not change that. It merely gave words to something that existed already.”

*

“Mr. Rochester never courted Jane Eyre,” Tessa pointed out.

“No, he dressed up as a woman and terrified the poor girl out of her wits. Is that what you want?”

“You would make a very ugly woman.”

“I would not. I would be stunning.”

*

“Truly?” Will said. “You have come back from death like the ghost of Old Marley, but to nag me about my romantic prospects?”

*

Charlotte said that if I chose, I could cease to be a Gray and take the name my mother should have had before she was married. I could be a Starkweather. I could have a true Shadowhunter name.”

She heard Will exhale a breath. It came out a puff of white in the cold. His eyes were blue and wide and clear, fixed on her face. He wore the expression of a man who had steeled himself to do a terrifying thing, and was carrying it through. “Of course you can have a true Shadowhunter name,” Will said. “You can have mine.”

*

With tears running down her face, Cecily had reminded him of the moment at her wedding to Gabriel when he had delivered a beautiful speech praising the groom, at the end of which he had announced, “Dear God, I thought she was marrying Gideon. I take it all back,” thus vexing not only Cecily and Gabriel but Sophie as well— and Will, though too tired to laugh, had smiled at his sister and squeezed her hand.

*

heart. And in the shadows they’d whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. Of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant. Of a ballroom and a balcony and the moon sailing like a ship untethered through the sky. Of the flutter of the wings of a clockwork angel. Of holy water and blood.

*

punishment. And he played the birth of their first son, and the protection ceremony that had been carried out on the child in the Silent City. Will would have no other Silent Brother but Jem perform it. And Jem played the way he had covered his scarred face with his hands and turned away when he’d found out the child’s name was James.

*

In Paris she found Magnus, who was living in a garret apartment and painting, an occupation for which he had no aptitude whatsoever. He let her sleep on a mattress by the window, and in the night, when she woke up screaming for Will, he came and put his arms around her, smelling of turpentine.

*

“I will tell you the story of it. Another story of Lightwoods and Herondales and Fairchilds. But it will take more than an hour in the telling, and you must be cold.”

*

“Tessa— you followed me?”

“Of course I followed you. You ran off in the middle of a sentence!”

“It wasn’t a very good sentence.”

*

“Come with me,” she said. “Stay with me. Be with me. See everything with me. I have traveled the world and seen so much, but there is so much more, and no one I would rather see it with than you. I would go everywhere and anywhere with you, Jem Carstairs.”

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