Real. Does that make me imaginary?

He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

No one dressed by me ever looks like an idiot.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him - and I didn’t know how potent that part might be - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

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

But the absence of him is everywhere I look. It's like a huge hole has been punched through my chest.

So, how come Jacob Black gets to give you a gift and I don't? Because I have nothing to give back to you. Bella, you give me everything just by breathing.