Love Is A Contradiction.

Have You Tried Talking To Her?" "no. We've Been Punching Her In The Face Repeatedly. What? You Don't Think That Will Work?

My Name Is Herondale," The Boy Said Cheerfully. "william Herondale, But Everyone Calls Me Will. Is This Really Your Room? Not Very Nice, Is It?" He Wandered Toward The Window, Pausing To Examine The Stacks Of Books On Her Bedside Table, And Then The Bed Itself. He Waved A Hand At The Ropes. "do You Often Sleep Tied To The Bed?

They Say You Cannot Love Two People Equally At Once,” She Said. “and Perhaps For Others That Is So. But You And Will—you Are Not Like Two Ordinary People, Two People Who Might Have Been Jealous Of Each Other, Or Who Would Have Imagined My Love For One Of Them Diminished By My Love Of The Other. You Merged Your Souls When You Were Both Children. I Could Not Have Loved Will So Much If I Had Not Loved You As Well. And I Could Not Love You As I Do If I Had Not Loved Will As I Did.

One Does Silly Things When One Is Twelve.

Tessa Was Laying On Her Side, Her Brown Hair Spread Over The Pillow, Watching Will, Whose Face Was Bent Over The Pages, With A Look Of Tenderness In Her Eyes, A Tenderness Mirrored In The Softness Of Will's Voice As He Read.