There was no reason for Bella Swan to cross paths with me. She would be avoided like the plague she was.

The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green, protective forest of Forks . . . of home.

She reminded me of what it did to her when I left — what it still does to her when I leave. She feels horrible about bringing that up, but she’s right. I’ll never be able to make up for that, but I’ll never stop trying anyway.

I like it when pessimism goes unrewarded.

We should have been wiser; we should have died yesterday.

Her existence alone was excuse enough to justify the creation of the entire world.

Storytelling was the most honored of all talents, for it benefited everyone.