Happy and sad, elated and miserable, secure and afraid, loved and denied, patient and angry, peaceful and wild, complete and empty...all of it. I would feel everything. It would all be mine.

I took his hand, and suddely he yanked me―too roughly―right off the bed so that I thudded against his chest. "Just in case," he muttered against my hair, crushing me in a bear hug that about to broke my ribs. "Can't―breathe!" I gasped.

Two voices struggled inside me. One that wanted to be good and brave, and one that told the good one to keep her mouth shut.

I’ve chosen my life — now I want to start living it.

I don't want to be a vampire. A lot of other people do and I think it's that dual nature - we have, you know, terrifying/intriguing.

Carlisle: "I've seen vampire venom work miracles, but there are conditions that even venom cannot overcome."

I felt like - like I don't know what. Like this wasn't real. Like I was in some Goth version of a bad sitcom. Instead of being the A/V dweeb about to ask the head cheerleader to the prom, I was the finished-second-place werewolf about to ask the vampire's wife to shack up and procreate. Nice. - Jacob