All Knowledge Hurts.

A Lot Of People Feel Like Urban Fantasy Is A Shortcut That Gets You Around World-building, Because It's Set "in The Real World." But It Doesn't Really Work That Way, As I Found Out. You Have To Come Up With Just As Consistent An Internal Cosmology And Magic System As You Would If You Were Writing High Fantasy.

He Looked At Her Levelly. There Was Something In His Eyes, A Sort Of Quizzical Admiration; She Wondered If It Was Simply Admiration Of Jessamine’s Looks. “no,” He Said. “no, Even Though You Are The Perfect Picture Of Jessamine, I Can See Tessa Through It Somehow As If, If I Were To Scrape Away A Layer Of Paint, There Would Be My Tessa Underneath.” “i Am Not Your Tessa Either.” The Light Sparkling In His Eyes Dimmed. “fair Enough,” He Said. “i Suppose You Are Not.

Memories Did One No Good, Not When One Knew The Truth In The Present. Will Was Beautiful, But He Was Not Hers; He Was Anybody's. Something In Him Was Broken, And Trough That Break Spilled A Blind Cruelty, A Need To Hurt And To Push Away.

You Want This?" His Voice Was Hoarse. "yes," She Said. "do You?" His Finger Traced The Outline Of Her Mouth. "for This I Would Have Been Damned Forever. For This I Would Have Given Up Everything." She Felt The Burn Behind Her Eyes, The Pressure Of Tears, And Blinked Wet Eyelashes. "will ..." "dw I'n Dy Garu Di Am Byth," He Said. "i Love You. Always." And He Moved To Cover Her Body With His Own.

It's Not Gray," Clary Felt Compelled To Point Out. "it's Green." "if There Was Such A Thing As Terminal Literalism, You'd Have Died In Childhood," Said Jace.