The Infernal Devices

“Have you ever felt that you hearts contained so much that it must surely break apart?”

“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.” 

You would not exist without a woman, would you? However little use you may find us, we are cleverer and more determined and more patient than men. Men may be stronger, but it is women who endure.

I love you now more desperately, this moment, than I have ever loved you before, and in an hour I will love you more than that.

“You are a wonder, Tessa Gray. To have such faith in me, though I have done nothing to earn it.” “Nothing?” Her voice rose. “Nothing to earn it? Will, you saved me from the Dark Sisters, you pushed me away to save me, you’ve saved me over and over again. You are a good man, one of the best I’ve ever known.” Will looked as stunned as if she had pushed him. He licked his dry lips. “I wish you wouldn’t say that,” he whispered.She leaned toward him. His face was shadows, angles and planes; she wanted to touch him, touch the curve of his mouth, the arc of his lashes against his cheek. Fire reflected in his eyes, pinpricks of light.

Pulvis et umbra sumus. I believe we are dust and shadows. What else is there?

Men may be stronger, but it is women who endure.

Don’t you see, Will? You’re a person like me. You are like me. You say the things I think but never say out loud. You read the books I read. You love the poetry I love. You make me laugh with your ridiculous songs and the way you see the truth of everything.

“tessa herondale carstairs,” he whispered. “you should never worry about borrowing my name when you know that you can have it to keep.”

“we have time to do everything,” he said, tracing one of his fingers down the side of her face. “we have forever.” 

(insp.)

“One must always be careful of books,“ said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.”

She looked up at him, lips parted in bewilderment. “Know what?” she said, and Will, with a sigh of something like defeat, kissed her.

We live and breathe words. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt—I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted—and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.

We live and breathe words.