My last sunrise. That morning, I was not yet a vampire. And I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely; yet I do not think I remember any other sunrise before it.

Maybe that's what Hell is. You go mad. And all your demons come and get you just as fast as you can think them up.

Do we have to confess our loves to everyone?" asked Thorne softly. "Can we not keep some secrets?

I claim Dickens as a mentor. He's my teacher. He's one of my driving forces.

Our language needs endless synonyms for beautiful; the eyes could see what the tongue cannot possibly describe.

And what if I never go of my own free will? Will you pitch me from some window so that I must fly or fall? Will you bolt all shutters after me? You had better, because I'll knock and knock and knock until I fall down dead. I'll have no wings that take me away from you.

I am in love with you', I responded. He laughed the most beguiling and gentle laugh. 'Of course you are,' he replied. 'I understand perfectly because I'm in love with myself. The fact that I'm not transfixed in front of the nearest mirror takes a great deal of self-control.' It was my turn to laugh.