Last November, I’ve managed to obtain a copy of the print edition of The Bane Chronicles. Aside from the pretty dust jacket and artworks, the book has tons of good lines too. On this post, I’ve compiled the lines that I’ve love from the shorts stories from the life of the ever-glamorous High Warlock of Brooklyn, Magnus Bane.

When people died, it felt like all the pieces of yourself you had given them went as well. It took so long, building yourself back up until you were whole again. And you were never entirely the same. (p.30)

Even in the midst of heartbreak, you could still find yourself laughing. (p.31)

One can give up many things for love, but one should not give up oneself. (p. 136)

Yet love was not something to be thrown aside lightly. It came so rarely, only a few times in a mortal life. Some- times it came but once. (p. 136)

Trust. It’s like placing a blade in someone’s hand and setting the very point against your own heart. (p.158)

“Will does not see a Silent Brother when he looks at James,” she said. “He sees only Jem.” (p.178)

A blade does not get to choose where it is pointed. (p.196)

Love was love; there was no spell to cure a broken heart that did not also destroy that heart’s capacity for love forever. (p.197)

The mundanes put their faith in their paper money, and when that turns to ash, the world will turn upside down. (p. 221)

When the true weight of eternity really settled on you—usually in the middle of the night when you were alone —the weight could be unbearable. The knowledge that all would die and you would live on and on, into some vast unknown future populated by who knew what, that everything would always keep falling away and you would go on and on . . . (p.222)


Time was like water, sometimes glacial and slow, sometimes a still pond, sometimes a gentle brook, and then a rushing river. And sometimes time was like vapor, vanishing even as you passed through it, draping everything in mist, refracting the light. (p.223)

“Nothing is permanent,” Magnus said. “I know this from experience. But you can get new things. You can meet new people. You can go on.” (p. 234)

There was no grace in death. (p.262)

Magnus hoped if he ever went mad like that himself, so mad that he poisoned the very air around him and hurt everyone he came into contact with, that there would besomeone who loved him enough to stop him. To kill him, if it came to that. (p.263)

Love did not overcome everything. Love did not always endure. All you had could be taken away, love could be the last thing you had, and then love could be taken too. (p.270)

When you stood still, and the world whirled on and never missed you. (p.274)

And he would always throw his cat a birthday party. (p. 276)

Humans can waste resources knowing that at least they will not be around to deal with the consequences. (p.287)

People who did drugs were boring. Hopelessly, relentlessly boring. Drugs made them either too slow or too fast, and mostly they talked about drugs. And then they either quit—a gruesome process—or they died. There was never a step in between. (p. 305)

Because in the end nothing is worse than seeing the fall of one you loved. It was somehow worse than losing a love. It
made everything seem questionable. It made the past bitter and confused. (p.338)

He hadn’t stopped wanting love. He had simply, somehow, stopped looking. (p.363)

He wondered if you could be exhausted without knowing it, if hope could be lost not all at once but could slip away gradually, day by day, and vanish before you ever realized. (p.363)

The heart had its reasons, and they were seldom all that reasonable. (p.379)

He had been taught so many times that hope was foolish, but he could not help it, as heedless as a child straying close to the fire and stubbornly refusing to learn from experience. Maybe this time was different—maybe this love was different. It felt so different; surely that had to mean something. Maybe the year to come would be a good year for both of them. Maybe this time things would work out the way Magnus wanted them to.

Maybe Alexander Lightwood would not break his heart. (p.488)