Emma Carstairs Quotes

These pictures are my heart. And if my heart was a canvas, every square inch of it would be painted over with you.

You belong where you're loved.

No one is ever the villain of their own story.

That's not the spirit of the law, Emma. Remember? The Law is hard, but it is the Law." "I thought it was 'the Law is annoying, but it is also flexible.

We are bound together, Emma, bound together—I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I’m yours and you’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!

I love you, Julian Blackthorn. I love you more than starlight.

He can touch your soul. And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

How long have you been drawing me?” He sighted. A moment later his hand came to rest in her hair. His fingers twined in the strands. “My whole life.

Nobody calls me 'blondie' and keeps their kneecaps.

As long as you exist and I exist, I will love you.

She soared above the ground, and he kept her tethered to the earth. Without him she would be lost among the clouds.

Why all these paintings of you? Because I'm an artist, Emma. These pictures are my heart. And if my heart was a canvas, every square inch of it would be painted over with you.

Faith isn’t never having any doubts; it’s having what you need to overcome them.

This cat is looking at me with judgment.”“He’s not,” said Jules. “That’s just his face.”“You look at me the same way,” Mark said, glancing at Julian. “Judgy face.

I know you have nothing to worry about. I wasn't in love with Mark. I'll never be in love with anyone again who isn't you.

Break my heart, he said. "Break it in pieces. I give you my permission.

You’ve got a lot of responsibility now,” Jace said to Julian. “You’ll have to make sure Emma winds up with a guy who deserves her.” Julian was strangely white-faced. Maybe he was feeling the effects of the ceremony, Emma thought. It had been strong magic; she still felt it sizzling through her blood like champagne bubbles. But Jules looked as if he’d been slapped. “What about me?” Emma said, quickly. “Don’t I have to make sure Jules winds up with someone who deserves him?” “Absolutely. I did it for Alec, Alec did it for me — well, actually, he hated Clary at first, but he came around.” “I BET you didn’t like Magnus much, either,” said Julian, still with the same odd, stiff look on his face. “Maybe not,” said Jace, “but I never would have said so.” “Because it would have hurt Alec’s feelings?” Emma asked. “No,” said Jace, “because Magnus would have turned me into a hat rack.

And if we don't have Energy runes, we'll have to get our energy the old-fashioned way." Mark looked puzzled. "Drugs?" "Chocolate," Emma said. "I brought chocolate. Mark, where do you even come up with these things?" Mark smiled crookedly, shrugging one shoulder. "Faerie humor?

Lex malla, lex nulla,” said Julian with a regretful wave of his hand. It was the Blackthorn family motto: A bad law is no law. “I wonder what other family mottoes are,” Emma mused. “Do you know any?” “The Lightwood family motto is ‘We mean well.’ ” “Very funny.” Julian looked over at her. “No, really, it actually is.” “Seriously? So what’s the Herondale family motto? ‘Chiseled but angsty’?” He shrugged. ‘If you don’t know what your last name is, it’s probably Herondale’?” Emma burst out laughing. “What about Carstairs?” she asked, tapping Cortana. “ ‘We have a sword’? ‘Blunt instruments are for losers’?” “Morgenstern,” offered Julian. “ ‘When in doubt, start a war’?

He caught her by the wrist, brought her hand to his bare chest. Splayed her fingers over his heart. It beat against her palm, like a fist punching its way through his sternum. 'Break my heart,' he said. 'Break it in pieces. I give you permission.

You don't have to do this for me," Emma was saying, softly but earnestly, in a voice Cristina had never heard her use before. I think I do," said Julian. "I think I remember making a vow to that effect." "'Whither thou goest, I will go, whatever stupid thing you do, I will do also?'" Emma said. "Was that the vow?

Julian: “Wikipedia knows about everything. It might be run by warlocks.” Emma: “You think that’s what they do all day in the Spiral Labyrinth? Run Wikipedia?” Julian: “I admit it seems like a letdown.

We're late," she said, "The show is supposed to start in ten minutes. If some people hadn't decided that 'semiformal' meant 'seminaked'-" "Why are you calling me 'some people'?" Mark inquired. "I am only one person.

He knew in the way that she was a part of him, the way her breathing was his breathing, and her dreams were his dreams, and her blood was his blood, and when her heart stopped he knew that his would too, and he would be glad, because he wouldn’t want to live one second in a world that didn’t have her in it.

Emma —“ “I’m calling.” Emma lunged for her phone. “No!” Julian said, forcefully enough to stop her. “You know we can’t tell anyone. About Mark —“ “You’re not going to bleed to death in a car for Mark!” “No,” he said, looking at her. His eyes were eerily green-blue, the only bright color in the dark interior of the car. “You’re going to fix me.

You could sketch me,” said Emma. She flung herself down onto her seat, leaning her head on her hand. “ ‘Draw me like one of your French girls.’ ” Julian grinned. “I hate that movie,” he said. “You know I do.” Emma sat up indignantly. “The first time we watched Titanic, you cried.” “I had seasonal allergies,” Jules said.

He hadn't wanted to leave Emma, but at the same time he'd thought it would help. Like an addict getting away from the source of his addiction.

Sometimes she thought the only things she had faith in were revenge and Julian.

The Law is annoying, but it is also flexible.

I am so ready to hunt down those tiny adorable creatures and give them what for,” said Emma. “SO READY.” “Emma . . .” “I may even tie bows on their heads.” “We have to interrogate them.” “Can I get a selfie with one of them first?” “Eat your toast, Emma.

I still love Emma more than I ever thought was possible. I love her more every day, and more every time I try to stop. I love her like I'm being ripped in half.

If she kissed him, would he taste like blood or cloves or a mixture of the two?

Julian," she said. "I was angry at you. I missed you. But I didn't stop loving you." She brushed the back of her hand lightly against his cheek. "As long as you exist and I exist, I will love you.

God, I hate rogue necromancers," said Magnus. "Why can't they just follow the rules?" "Probably because the biggest rule is 'no necromancy'?" Emma suggested

Their closeness wouldn't break, but it would bend and stretch into a new shape.

Malcolm looked warily at her. 'She may be dangerous,' he said to Julian. 'Then again, all women are dangerous.

We could—” he started, then stopped, swallowed, and started again. “We could become parabatai.” He said it shyly, half-turning his face away from her, so that the shadows partially hid his expression. “Then they couldn’t separate us,” he added. “Not ever.” Emma felt her heart turn over. “Jules, being parabatai is a big deal,” she said. “It’s—it’s forever.” He looked at her, his face open and guileless. There was no trickery in Jules, no darkness. “Aren’t we forever?” he asked.

Whoa, sexy weirdness,” said Emma. “This may be more sexy weirdness than I can handle.” “It is not weird!” “It is,” said Emma. “You are headed for a faerie threesome. Or some kind of war.” “Emma!” “Hot faerie threesome,” said Emma cheerfully. “I can say I knew you when.

I don’t understand what makes them come out like that!”“Hunger,” said Jem. “Were you thinking about blood?”“No.”“Were you thinking about eating me?” Will inquired.“No!"“No one would blame you,” said Jem. “He’s very annoying.

Mark: “A strange evening, forsooth,” he said. Emma: “Don’t you forsooth me.

Tiberius Nero Blackthorn. I think his parents may have gone a little overboard. It's like naming someone Magnificent Bastard.

I'm a Shadowhunter. Quip fast, die young.

When he faced her again, he had never looked to her so much like one of the Fair Folk. His eyes were full of feral amusement, a carelessness that spoke of a world where there was no human Law. He seemed to bring the wildness of Faerie into the room with him: a cold, sweet magic that was nevertheless a bitter at the roots. The storm calls you as it calls me, does it not? He held out a hand to her, half-beckoning, half-offering. "Why lie?" he said.

We both see the same world, but in a different way. Ty feels the same joy I do, the joy of creation. We feel all the same things, only the shapes of our feelings are different.

Sometimes it's braver not to fight. Protect them, and save your vengeance for another day.

Don't roll your eyes. It punctures my dramatic moment. I want my dramatic moment unpunctured.

Julian?" Emma called. "Julian, is that you?

Once you dissolve dye in water, you can’t take it back out. It’s like that. I can’t take you out of me. It means cutting out my heart, and I don’t like myself without my heart.

Hello? This is Clary Fairchild.” “Clary? It’s me, Emma.” “Oh, Emma, hi! I haven’t heard from you in ages. My mom says thanks for the wedding flowers, by the way. She wanted to send a note but Luke whisked her away on a honeymoon to Tahiti.” “Tahiti sounds nice.” “It probably is — Jace, what are you doing with that thing? There is no way it’ll fit.” “Is this a bad time?” “What? No! Jace is trying to drag a trebuchet into the training room. Alec, stop helping him.” “What’s a trebuchet?” “It’s a huge catapult.” “What are they going to use it for?” “I have no idea. Alec, you’re enabling! You’re an enabler!” “Maybe it is a bad time.” “I doubt there’ll be a better one. Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do?” “I think we have your cat.” “What?” “Your cat. Big fuzzy Blue Persian? Always looks angry? Julian says it’s your cat. He says he saw it at the New York Institute. Well, saw him. It’s a boy cat.” “Church? You have Church? But I thought — well, we knew he was gone. We thought Brother Zachariah took him. Isabelle was annoyed, but they seemed to know each other. I’ve never seen Church actually likeanyone like that.” “I don’t know if he likes anyone here. He bit Julian twice. Oh, wait. Julian says he likes Ty. He’s asleep on Ty’s bed.” “How did you wind up with him?” “Someone rang our front doorbell. Diana, she’s our tutor, went down to see what it was. Church was in a cage on the front step with a note tied to it. It said For Emma. This is Church, a longtime friend of the Carstairs. Take care of this cat and he will take care of you. —J.” “Brother Zachariah left you a cat.” “But I don’t even really know him. And he’s not a Silent Brother any more.” “You may not know him, but he clearly knows you.” “What do you think the J stands for?” “His real name. Look, Emma, if he wants you to have Church, and you want Church, you should keep him.” “Are you sure? The Lightwoods —“ ‘They’re both standing here nodding. Well, Alec is partially trapped under a trebuchet, but he seems to be nodding.” “Jules says we’d like to keep him. We used to have a cat named Oscar, but he died, and, well, Church seems to be good for Ty’s nightmares.” “Oh, honey. I think, really, he’s Brother Zachariah’s cat. And if he wants you to have him, then you should.” “Why does Brother Zachariah want to protect me? It’s like he knows me, but I don’t know why he knows me.” “I don’t exactly know … But I know Tessa. She’s his — well, girlfriend seems not the right word for it. They’ve known each other a long, long time. I have a feeling they’re both watching over you.” “That’s good. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” “Emma — oh my God. The trebuchet just crashed through the floor. I have to go. Call me later.” “But we can keep the cat?” “You can keep the cat.

You belong where you’re loved.

She could understand suddenly why people talked about passion as fire: She felt as if they had caught aflame and were burning like the dry Malibu hills, about to become ashes that would mix together forever.

You don't have to do this." "I think I do," Julian said. "I remember making a vow to that affect." "Whither thou goest, i will go, whatever stupid thing you do, i shall do also'." Emma said. "Was that the vow?

You call me afraid?" demanded Mark. "Insult me again and find your blood spilled, girl." "Mark, this is Emma," Julian said. " Emma Carstairs." Mark pressed himself farther back into the wall. "Lies," he said. "Lies and dreams.

I am no longer a Silent Brother," he said. "Only an ordinary man. My name is James, James Carstairs. But everyone calls me Jem.

He will choose us," Julian said. "We are his family." Kieran's eye shone. "I wouldn'tbe so sure, young Shadowhunter. Those of the Hunt are loyal to the Hunt." "He isn't of the Hunt," Emma said. "He is a Blackthorn.

When you love someone, they become a part of who you are. They’re in everything you do. They’re in the air you breathe and the water you drink and the blood in your veins. Their touch stays on your skin and their voice stays in your ears and their thoughts stay in your mind. You know their dreams because their nightmares pierce your heart and their good dreams are your dreams too. And you don’t think they’re perfect, but you know their flaws, the deep-down truth of them, and the shadows of all their secrets, and they don’t frighten you away; in fact you love them more for it, because you don’t want perfect. You want them. You want-

But Julian's blood was different. When she saw it she thought of him, shot and crumpling, the way his blood had run like water through her fingers. It was the first time in years that she'd actually thought he might die, that she might lose him. She knew what people said about parabatai, knew that it was meant to be a loss as profound as that of a spouse or a sibling. Emma had lost her parents; she had thought she knew what loss was, was prepared for it. But nothing had prepared her for the feeling that the idea of losing Jules wrenched out of her: that sky would go dark forever, that there would never be solid ground again.

It was an ocean she lived across from, ran beside everyday, but Julian knew how much it terrified her. She could force herself into it, sick and shaking, but he hated watching her do it, hated watching his strong Emma torn to shreds by the terror of something so primal and nameless she couldn't explain it even to herself. It made him want to kill things, destroy things to keep her safe. Even though she could keep herself safe. Even though she was the bravest person he knew.

Is it a wart?" said Malcolm. "I can cure that, but it'll cost you." "Why does everyone always think it's a wart?

Emma was all the good in him, he thought, all that burned bright.

But from now on the Herondales owe the Carstairs. Okay? Remember that.

We are bound together, Emma, bound together- I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I'm yours and you're mine, you've always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!

Emma, everyone's afraid of something." Julian move slightly closer; she felt his shoulders bump hers. "We fear things because we value them. We fear losing people because we love them. We fear dying because we value being alive. Don't wish you didn't fear anything. All that would mean is that you didn't feel anything.

Emma Cordelia Carstairs,” he said. He looked both very young and very old at the same time. There was blood at his throat where his faded rune stood out, but it wasn’t his. He seemed to be searching her face, though for what, she couldn’t tell. “Stay with your parabatai

He always wanted to play video games,” said Emma. “I hate video games.” “No one is perfect, Emma.” “But some people are perfect for each other. Don’t you think that has to be true?

I thought if you stopped loving me, you'd be sad for a while. And if I was sad forever, that would be okay. Because you'd be alright, and I'd still be your parabatai. And if you could be happy eventually, then I could be happy too, for you.

Cristina, of all the people I know, you're the most generous, and you spend the most time thinking about what makes other people happy. I think you should do whatever makes you happy. You deserve it.

Unless you are thinking of committing a crime?” I already have. I’m criminally in love with my parabatai.

If aught but death part thee and me, Emma,” he said, and pressed his lips to the strands. Emma closed her eyes as she whispered, “Julian. Julian. If aught but death part thee and me.

Ty, no one could have expected that,' Emma said. 'I mean, Julian said some words, and boom, Hell's tractor beam.

Adaon seized up a number of swords. Jace held out his hand for one. “Come to papa,” he crooned. “I can’t believe you have a beard,” Emma noted, momentarily diverted. Jace touched his bristly cheek. “Well, it has been a week, at least. I expect it makes me look manly, like a burnished god.” “I hate it,” said Emma. “I like it,” said Clary loyally. “I don’t believe you,” said Emma. She stuck out her hand toward Adaon. “Give me my sword. Jace can use it to shave.

I think everyone is strong and weak in different ways.

It's so hard to be sassy to the Fair Folk. You people never get jokes

She knew he couldn’t love her, but in that moment it felt as if he did.

And she wept as well for the others lost in the Dark War, and she wept for her mother and the loss she had endured, and she wept for Emma and the Blackthorns, remembering how they had fought back tears when she had told them that she had seen Mark in the tunnels of Faerie, and how he belonged to the Hunt now, and she wept for Simon and the hole in her heart where he had been, and the she would miss him every day until she died, and she wept for herself and the changes that had been wrought in her, because sometimes even change for the better felt like a little death.

Heroes aren't always the ones that win. They're the ones who lose sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don't give up. That's what makes them heroes

Emma gasped. "You drank faerie wine? Cristina! That's how you black out and wake up the next day under a bridge with a tattoo that says I LOVE HELICOPTERS.

Do the choo-choo train," - Emma Carstairs

Emma rose to her feet, facing the faerie across the fleeing crowd. Gleaming from his weathered, barklike face, his eyes were yellow as a cat's. "Shadowhunter," he hissed. Emma reached back over her shoulder and closed her hand around the hilt of her sword, Cortana. The blade made a golden blur in the air as she drew it and pointed the tip at the fey. "No," she said. "I'm a candygram. This is my costume." The faerie looked puzzled. Emma sighed. "It's so hard to be sassy to the Fair Folk. You people never get jokes." "We are well known for our jests, japes, and ballads," the faerie said, clearly offended. "Some of our ballads last for weeks." "I don't have that kind of time," Emma said. "I'm a Shadowhunter. Quip fast, die young." She wiggled Cortana's tip impatiently. "Now turn out your pockets." "I have done nothing to break the Cold Peace," said the fey. "Technically true, but we do frown on stealing from mundanes," Emma said. "Turn out your pockets or I'll rip off one of your horns and shove it where the sun doesn't shine." The fey looked puzzled. "Where does the sun not shine? Is this a riddle?" Emma gave a martyred sigh and raised Cortana. "Turn them out, or I'll start peeling your bark off. My boyfriend and I just broke up, and I'm not in the best mood." The faerie began slowly to empty his pockets onto the ground, glaring at her all the while. "So you're single," he said. "I never would have guessed.

What'd he said in the car--he'd meant it. His gaze had been level and direct as he'd spoken. It had been *Julian* talking, her Jules, the one who lived in her bones and her brain and at the base of her spine, the one who was threaded all through her like veins or nerves.

Quip fast, die young.

I like her[Emma],” Isabelle said finally. “She kind of reminds me of Jace when he was little, and stubborn, and acted like he was immortal.” “Two of those things still apply,” said Clary.

She remembered what Jem, the ex-Silent Brother who'd helped preside over her parabatai ceremony, had said about what Julian was to her, that there was an expression for it in his native Chinese, zhi yin. "The one who understands your music." Emma couldn't play a note on any instrument , but Julian understood her music.

Julian would want me to-" Emma stared "Julian would cut off his hand if you asked him to. That doesn't mean you should" Diana rubbed hertemples as if they ached. "Revenge isn't family, Emma. It isn't a friend, and it's a cold bedfellow

I have been in the land of Faerie for years and it is a place where mortal blood is turned to fire. It is a place of beauty and terror beyond what can be imagined here. I have ridden with the Wild Hunt. I have carved a clear path of freedom among the stars and outrun the wind. And no I am asked to walk upon the earth again.

Emma listened to the familiar sound of Julian coming up the stairs. The tread of his feet was like music she had always known, so familiar that it had almost stopped being music.

I’ve loved my family since the day I was born and I always will. But you’re the love I chose, Emma. Out of everyone in the world, out of everyone I’ve ever known, I chose you. I’ve always had faith in that choice. At the edge of everything, love and faith have always brought me back, and back to you.

What’s up?” Emma called. “We’re almost ready.” “I just wanted to tell you to come down,” Mark said. “We are all eager to hear your story, and I’ve made my famous doughnut sandwiches.” “I’m not sure ‘Tavvy likes them’ is exactly what most people mean when they say ‘famous,’ ” Emma said.

Who’d break up with him?” “I might, if he was insufficiently attentive to my needs.

He needed the release of the tears, she thought but he'd forgotten the mechanisms of weeping after so many years of holding back.

He was drowning in want, his control shattering like glass blown out of a window by a blast concussion. He could almost imagine he heard the shards raining to the ground beneath them. The broken pieces of his willpower. Of his life.

Truth is to be found in dreams,” the King said, looking down at them. From this angle, Emma could see that odd splitting of his face ended at his throat, which was ordinary skin. “Tell me, Shadowhunters: you enter a cave. Inside the cave is and egg, lit from within and glowing. You know that it beats with you dreams-not the ones you have during the day, but the ones you half-remember in the morning. It splits open.What emerges?” “A rose,” said Mark. “With thorns.” Cristina cut her eyes toward him in surprise but remained motionless. “An angel,” she said. “With bloody hands.” “A knife,” said Emma. “Pure and clean.” “Bars,” Julian said quietly. “The bars of a prison cell.

What was one lie among so many others?

She remembered what it felt like to have her hands in that hair, how holding him had anchored her not just to the world, but to herself.

On the day Emma Carstairs´ parents were killed, the weather was perfect.

Now she felt a restlessness that went beyond that; the old hopes felt too confining, as if they were a dress she had outgrown. Perhaps you outgrew your dreams, too, as your world expanded.

Emma was the only person he had ever desired, and the force of that desire sometimes stunned him. Never more than tonight. He had lost himself in her, in them, for some totality of time; he had felt only his body and the part of his heart that loved and was uninjured. Emma was all the good in him, he thought, all that burned bright.

He gripped her so tightly she could barely breathe. Then he let go. He did it as if he was forcing himself, as if he were starving and he was putting aside the last piece of food he had. But he did it.

He has a fiancée, Emma. Not even just a girlfriend. A fiancée. Who knows how long he’s even been engaged? Engaged. To get married.” “I’ll crash the wedding,” Emma suggested. “I’ll jump out of the cake, but not in a sexy way. Like, with grenades.

Emma was all the good in him, he thought, all that burned bright. But then the pain had come, and the sense of something wrong.

Stay with Emma,

Church!" Emma scooped him up in her arms, and Church did what he usually did. He went limp. "Is that cat dead?" Diana demanded. "No, he isn't," Emma cooed, and kissed his furry face. Church went limper. "He just hates affection.

Christina flashed a smile. "I shall ask a million questions of your purply-eyed so that Diana doesn't think about you and Julian or whether you might be at Mr. Rook's." I'm not sure he's a mister," Emma said, stifling a yawn. "I've never heard anyone call him anything but 'hey, Rook' or sometimes 'that bastard.

Emma's heart was pounding. She chanced a look up at Julian. For the briefest of moments he looked like someone who'd been staggering through the Mojave Desert, half-dead from the sun, and had seen a glimmer of water up ahead only to have it turn out to be a mirage. "Still no Mark?" Emma said hastily as Cristina reached them. Not that there was a real reason Cristina would know where Mark was; Emma just didn't want her looking at Julian. Not when he looked like that.

You’re suggesting we burn down Blackthorn Manor?” said Ty, his eyebrows up around his hairline. “Oddly,” Magnus muttered, “you wouldn’t be the first people ever to have that idea.” “Ty, don’t sound so excited,” Livvy said. “Pyromania interests me,” said Ty. “I think you have to burn down several buildings before you can consider yourself to be an actual maniac for pyro,” Emma said. “I think before that you’re just an enthusiast.

Heroes aren't always the ones who win. They're the ones who lose, sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don't give up. That's what makes them heroes.

Because when someone-shoots you with an arrow-"he gasped, "your immediate response is not 'Thanks for the arrow, I think I'll keep it for a while.

I like to think things have a point.

Revenge isn't family, Emma. It isn't a friend, and it's a cold bedfellow

Whither thou goest, I will go; thy people shall be my people; whither thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

If she kissed him, would he taste like blood or cloves or a mixture of the two? Sweet and spicy? Bitter and hot?

Oh, if we could end love just by willing it, life would be very different!' Tessa laughed. 'It's easier to end someone else's love for you than kill your love for them. Convince them that you don't love them, or that you are someone they cannot respect —ideally both.' Her eyes were wide and gray and youthful, it was hard to believe she was older than nineteen. 'To change your own heart, that's nearly impossible.

He grinned his low-key grin and stretched. She didn't look at where his shirt rode up. There was no reason to sail down Sexy Throughts River to the Sea of Perversion when it wasn't going to go anywhere.

He picked up the sketchbook, turning it so she could see his work - a gorgeous rendition of a stone bridge they'd passed, surrounded by the drooping boughs of oak trees. "You could sketch me," said Emma. She flung herself down onto her seat, leaning her head on her hand. "Draw me like one of your french girls.

Julian doesn't lie.

She stepped away from him. It felt as if she were tearing her own skin open, as if she would look down and see blood seeping from the wounds where she had ripped herself away from him.

She was standing in front of all of them in just her bra and jeans. She didn't care. She didn't feel naked- she felt clothed in rage and fury, like a warrior from one of Arthur's tales.

As long as you exist and I exist, I will love you. The words had filled his heart and broken it. The danger of loving Emma had become like a battle scar: a source of pride, a memory of pain.

Cuando amas a alguien, se convierte en una parte de ti. Está en todo lo que haces. Está en el aire que respiras, en el agua que bebes; su voz permanece en tus oídos y sus ideas en tu cabeza. conoces sus sueños porque sus pesadillas se clavan en tu corazón, y sus sueños bueno son también los tuyos. Y no crees que es perfecto, sino que conoces sis defectos, la autentica verdad de sus defectos y la sombra de todos sus secretos, y eso no te hace alejarte; de hecho, lo amas más por eso, porque no quieres que sea perfecto. Tu quieres a ese alguien. Quieres..." Julian Blackthorn

That was what was gone from Julian, she thought, shivering again. The thousands of emotions that had always lived behind his expressions, the love-for her, for his siblings-behind his eyes. Even his worry seemed to have gone, and that was stranger than anything else.

He grinned his low-key grin and stretched. She didn't look at where his shirt rode up. There was no reason to sail down Sexy Thoughts River to the Sea of Perversion when it wasn't going to go anywhere.

She'd heard of people having butterflies in their stomaches, and she knew what they meant. That flapping, uneasy feeling deep in your gut. But she had it now everywhere. Butterflies under all of her skin, fluttering, sending shivers that moved in waves up and down her body.

Emma looked at the ocean and felt what she always felt;a mixture of yearning and terror, a desire to throw herself into the green cold that was like the desire to drive too fast, jump too high, leap into battle unarmed.

You could sketch me,” said Emma. She flung herself down onto her seat, leaning her head on her hand. “ ‘Draw me like one of your French girls.’ ” Julian grinned. “I hate that movie,” he said. “You know I do.” Emma sat up indignantly. “The first time we watched Titanic, you cried.” “I had seasonal allergies,” Jules said.

Not giving him booze, are you? He's a little young for it.

Emma hoped Ty was unconscious, she hoped he was seeing none of this. He would wake up eventually, and the horror of what he would wake up to drove her forward.

She didn't look at where his shirt rode up. There was no reason to sail down Sexy Thoughts River to the Sea of Perversion when it wasn't going to go anywhere.

I’ll have to learn what you did: that family isn’t blood. It’s the people who love you. The people who have your back. Like the Lightwoods did for you.

For a moment, Julian saw John Carstairs looking at Emma, or his own mother looking at him, the mixture of love for what is and sorrow for what cannot be kept.

I love you more than starlight" - Emma Carstairs

Había algo cuando alguien se preocupaba por ti que te hace sentir como que nunca estarás totalmente solo. - Emma Carstairs

A voice seemed to ring in his head, clear as a bell; it was the Seelie Queen’s voice. Have you ever wondered how we lure mortals to live amongst faeries and serve us, son of thorns? We choose those who have lost something and promise them that which humans desire most of all, a cessation to their grief and suffering. Little do they know that once they enter our Lands, they are in the cage and will never again feel happiness. You are in that cage, boy.

Yeah, but I kill myself training. It's just about all I do. I get up and train, and run and I split my hands on the punching bag, and I train for hours into the night, and I have to, because there is nothing else special about me and nothing else that matters. All there is, is training and finding out who killed my parents. Because they were the ones who thought I was special, and whoever took them away from me...What I have is trying. I can try harder than anyone else in the world. I can make revenge the only thing I have in my life. I can do that, because I have to. But it means it's all I have.

Grief does not make us weak,' Cristina said firmly. 'It makes us human. How could you comfort Dru, or Ty, or Jules, if you didn't know what they missed about her? Sympathy is common. Knowing the exact shape of the hole someone's loss leaves in your heart is rare.

Do I have anything iron?" Simon looked around wildly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small miniature figure of an archer. "This is my D&D character, Lord Montgomery-" "Oh my God," said Isabelle. "Most figurines are pewter, but this one's iron. I got it on Kick-starter.

And that someone would pay. Revenge is a cold bedfellow, Diana had said, but Emma didn't believe that. Revenge would let her think about her parents without a cold knot forming in her stomach. She would be able to dream without seeing their drowned faces and hearing their voices cry out for her help.

Truth is to be found in dreams," the King said, looking down at them. From this angle, Emma could see that the odd splitting of his face ended at his throat, which was ordinary skin. "Tell me, Shadowhunters: You enter a cave. Inside the cave is an egg, lit from within and glowing. You know that it beats with your dreams--not the ones you have during the day, but the ones you half-remember in the morning. It splits open. What emerges?" "A rose," said Mark. "With thorns." Christina cut her eyes toward him in surprise, but remained motionless. "An angel," she said. "With bloody hands." "A knife," said Emma. "Pure and clean." "Bars," Julian said quietly. "The bars of a prison cell.

A blade made by Wayland the Smith can cut anything.

John Carstairs smiled sadly. "As long as there is love and memory, there is no true death

she'd held the sword to her as if it were a child, heedless of the deep cut the blade left on her arm.

She wanted her parents with a painful intensity that was almost humiliating.

La fe no es tener nunca dudas; es tener lo necesario para superarlas

I believe in you, Emma. When I see you, I see Carstairs past; I see bravery, and the flame of Cortana. Remember that you are of the steel and temper of those who have gone before you.

You’ve always felt everything so intensely,” she said after a moment’s pause. “And that was something I did love about you. How much you loved your family, how you would do anything for them. But you kept your heart closed off. You didn’t trust anyone, and I don’t blame you—you took everything on yourself, and you kept so many secrets, because you thought you had to. But when you opened up the Institute for the war council, you made yourself trust other people to help you execute a plan. You didn’t hide; you let yourself be open to being hurt or betrayed so you could lead them. And when you came to me in the Silent City and you stopped me breaking the rune—” Her voice shook. “You told me to trust not just you but in the intrinsic goodness of the world. That was my worst point, my darkest point, and you were there, despite everything, with your heart open. You were there to bring me home.” He laid his fingers against the bare skin of her arm, where her parabatai rune had once been. “You brought me back too,” he said with a sort of awe. “I’ve loved you all my life, Emma. And when I felt nothing, I realized— without that love, I was nothing. You’re the reason I wanted to break out of the cage. You made me understand that love creates far more joy than any pain it causes.

You have a talent, Emma,” he said. “A goodness that makes people happy. You assume people are not just capable of their best but that they want to be their best. You assume the same about me.

Bazen," diye düşündü Emma, "Ben bir uçurtmaymışım da Julian beni uçuruyormuş gibi geliyor." Ayakları yerden kesiliyordu da Julian onu toprağa bağlı tutuyordu sanki. O olmadan Emma bulutların arasında kaybolurdu.

Oku neden çıkardın?" diye sordu Emma. "Çünkü birisi... seni bir okla vurduğunda..." dedi Jules nefes nefese. "... ilk tepkin... ok için teşekkürler, sanırım bir süre orada tutacağım, olmaz." "Espri anlayışını hâlâ kaybetmediğini bilmek güzel.

I believe in you, Emma. When I see you, I see Carstairs past; I see bravery, and the flame of Cortana. Remember that you are of the steel and temper of those who have gone before you. I hope that I will see you again soon, and that when I do I will have the strength to tell you of some of them, of a girl with fire-bright hair, and her brother, and those who came before and after them.

Senden daha iyi mühür çizen tek kişi Julian," dedi Emma. "Tabiî o bir sanatçı." "Julian, Julian, Julian," diye tekrarladı Cristina, alaylı bir ses tonuyla. "Julian bir ressam, Julian bir dâhi, Julian bunu nasıl tamir edeceğini bilirdi, Julian şunu yapabilirdi. Biliyor musun, son yedi haftadır Julian'a dair öyle harika şeyler duydum ki onunla tanışmadan anıda âşık olacağımdan korkmaya başladım.

Bridget had led Emma to a bedroom she seemed to have picked out ahead of time, and Emma soon found out why: There were two height charts scribbled on the plaster, the kind you got by standing someone against a wall and drawing a line just above their head, with the date. One was marked Will Herondale, the other, James Carstairs. A Carstairs room Emma hugged her elbows and imagined Jem: his kind voice, his dark eyes. She missed him. But that wasn't all; after all, Jem and Will could have done their height charts in any room. In the nightstand drawer, Emma found a cluster of old photographs, most dating from the early 1900s. Photographs of a group of four boys, at various stages of their lives. They seemed a lively bunch. Two of them - one blond, one dark-haired, were together in almost every photo, their arms slung around each other, both laughing. There was a girl with brown hair who looked a great deal like Tessa, but wasn't Tessa. And then there was Tessa, looking exactly the same, with a gorgeously handsome man in his late twenties. The famous Will Herondale, Emma guessed. And there was a girl, with dark red hair and brown skin, and a serious look. Therew as a golden sword in her hands. Emma recognized it instantly, even without the inscription on the blade: I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal/ Cortana. Whoever the girl was in the photograph, she was a Carstairs. On the back, someone had scrawled what looked like a line from a poem. The wound is the place where the Light enters you. Emma stared at it for a long time.

When had he changed? She couldn't remember the day, the hour, the moment.

There is corruption at the heart of the bond of parabatai. A poison. A darkness in it that mirrors its goodness. There is a reason parabatai cannot fall in love, and it is monstrous beyond all you could imagine. More real and dangerous was the shadow of heartbreak around every corner.

If you’re Jace Lightwood’s girlfriend, you should have a better sword

There are far more frightening things than you in the world, Emma Carstairs.

Emma felt a happiness so intense it was almost sorrow.

—Lex malla, lex nulla —repuso Julian, agitando una perezosa mano. Era el lema de la familia Blackthorn: «Una ley mala no es ley». —Me pregunto cuáles son los lemas de otras familias —comentó Emma—. ¿Sabes alguno? —El lema de la familia Lightwood es: «Nuestra intención es buena». —Muy gracioso. Julian la miró. —No, de verdad, es ese. —¿En serio? Y entonces ¿cuál es el lema de la familia Herondale? ¿«Tallados por la angustia»? Él se encogió de hombros. —¿«Si no sabes cuál es tu apellido, es probable que sea Herondale»? Emma se echó a reír. —¿Y los Carstairs? —preguntó, tocando a Cortana—. ¿«Tenemos una espada»? ¿«Los instrumentos desafilados son para los perdedores»? —Morgenstern —sugirió Julian—. ¿«En caso de duda, empieza una guerra»? —¿Y qué te parece: «Alguno de nosotros ha sido bueno de verdad»? —Parece largo —contestó Julian—. Y muy poco concreto.

Heroes aren't always the ones who win,' she said, 'They're the ones who lose sometimes. But they keep fighting, they keep coming back. They don't give up. That's what makes them heroes.

At the mention of the Spiral Labyrinth, Zachariah took in a sharp breath and knelt down, bringing his eyes on a level with Emma’s. “Emma Cordelia Carstairs,” he said. He looked both very young and very old at the same time. There was blood at his throat where his faded rune stood out, but it wasn’t his. He seemed to be searching her face, though for what, she couldn’t tell. “Stay with your parabatai,” he said finally, so quietly that no one else could hear them. “Sometimes it’s braver not to fight. Protect them, and save your vengeance for another day.” Emma felt her eyes widen. “But I don’t have a parabatai—and how did you—

Cortana. Il nome significava semplicemente “spada corta”, ma per Emma non lo era. Lunga quanto il suo avambraccio, di metallo lucente, portava incise parole che non mancavano mai di farle correre brividi lungo la schiena: Il mio nome è Cortana e condivido l’acciaio e la tempra di Gioiosa e Durlindana. Suo padre le aveva spiegato il significato di quella frase quando, a dieci anni, le aveva messo per la prima volta l’arma fra le mani. “Capisci cosa significa quella scritta?” Lei aveva scosso la testa. “Acciaio” le era chiaro, ovviamente, ma “tempra”? Per un uomo significava avere carattere, ma una spada che carattere poteva mai avere? “Hai già sentito parlare della famiglia Wayland” aveva aggiunto lui. “Erano famosi fabbricanti d’armi, prima che le Sorelle di Ferro iniziassero a forgiare tutte le spade degli Shadowhunters. Wayland il Fabbro realizzò Excalibur e Gioiosa, quelle di Artù e di Lancillotto, così come Durlindana, la spada dell’eroe Orlando. E fecero anche Cortana, partendo dallo stesso acciaio. L’acciaio deve sempre essere temprato, cioè sottoposto a un calore quasi in grado di fondere o distruggere il metallo, in modo da renderlo più resistente.” A quel punto le aveva dato un bacio sulla testa. “I Carstairs custodiscono questa spada da generazioni. L’iscrizione ci ricorda che gli Shadowhunters sono le armi dell’Angelo. Tempraci nel fuoco, e diventiamo più forti. Pur soffrendo, sopravviviamo.

I appreciate your offer. But if joining the Cohort means I have to spend my life stuck halfway up a mountain with a bunch of fascists, I'll take living in the past.

But, Papa,” Emma whispered. “Papa, you’re dead.” John Carstairs smiled sadly. “As long as there is love and memory, there is no true death,” he said.

Chopin.” Tessa identified the music with a soft smile. “I wonder—I wonder if little Emma Carstairs will play the violin someday.