Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

by Cassandra Clare

Once you had lost everything, she reasoned, there was no reason not to embrace whatever small happinesses you could.

“I don’t think I could lo—like you as well as I do if you were toothless.” Oh, dear. She had almost said love. At least Jesse seemed too enchanted with his new injuries to have noticed.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.

Dante again, :')

You love as your father loves: wholly, without conditions or hesitancy. To use that as a weapon is blasphemy.

“We are not here just to forget,” Matthew said, “but also to remember that there are good and beautiful things in this world, always. And mistakes do not take them from us; nothing takes them from us. They are eternal.”

“I rather think love is something like a book written just for us, a sort of holy text it is given to us to interpret.”