Unca Jay!" "How's it going Claire?" She giggled. "Qwil aaaaawl wet now." "I can see that. Where's your mama?" "Gone, gone, gone," Claire sang. "Cwaire pway wid Qwil aaaawl day. Cwaire nebber gowin home." Jacob and Claire, Breaking Dawn, page 152.

When I was 8, I was reading 'Gone with the Wind' and 'Pride and Prejudice' and all that, not knowing it wasn't my reading level.

That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.

Edward helped, making faces every so often at the raw ingredients-human food was mildly repulsive to him.

I tensed for the spring, my eyes squinting as I cringed away, and the sound of Edward's furious roar echoed distantly in the back of my head. His name burst through all the walls I'd built to contain it. Edward, Edward, Edward. I was going to die. It shouldn't matter if I thought of him now. Edward, I love you.

In the dead silence, all the details suddenly fell into place for me with a burst of intuition. Something Edward didn't want me to know. Something that Jacob wouldn't have kept from me.... It was never going to end, was it?

How did people do this - swallow all their fears and trust someone else so implicitly with every imperfection and fear they had.