How did anyone survive this world, with these bodies whose memories wouldn't stay in the past where they should? With the emotions that were so strond I couldn't tell what I felt anymore?

He was giving up on keeping me alive, letting nature–or rather mob justice–take its course. When he returned, and I was dead, he wouldn't hold anyone responsible. He would not mourn. All this I could hear in those three words.

Books have been thought of as windows to another world of imagination

Those who lived in peaceful nations had looked the other way as members of their own species starved on their door step.

You dont know how hard it was for me to take you and leave them alive.

For a second I was just a kid – a kid who had lived all of his life in the same tiny town. Just a child. Because I knew I would have to live a lot more, suffer a lot more, to ever understand the searing agony in Edward’s eyes.

Twilight, again. Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.