"Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?"

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The surface of the pond was green with fallen leaves. "How could you have been happy there? I know what you thought, but Valentine was a terrible father. He killed your pets, lied to you, and I know he hit you- don't even try to pretend he didn't." A flicker of a smile ghosted across Jace's face. "Only on alternate Thursdays.

— Cassandra Clare