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— Cassandra Clare"When Jace opened the greenhouse door, the scent hit Clary, soft as the padded blow of a cat's paw."
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If there was a God, he'd guide the winds, let them blow for me so that, with a tug of my string, I'd cut loose my pain, my longing.
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Some men go a lifetime and never have their kid blow up a car, but I have a daughter who's knocked off three cars and burned down a funeral home. Maybe that's some kind of record.
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