I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind.

If we could bottle your luck, we'd have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands.

Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-T-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I'd allow it, she'd love to dress me everyday―perhaps several times a day―like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.

By the way, I love you.” “That’s why we're here.

Just because I’m resisting the wine doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the bouquet.

Love doesn't always come in convenient packages.

It won't be the same for me," I whispered, half to myself. "You won't let me be like that. We'll live in Antarctica." Edward snorted, breaking the tension. "Penguins. Lovely.