Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" I asked. My voice broke twice. He didn't push me away. He pulled me tight against his ice-hard chest, so tight it was hard to breathe, even with my lungs securely intact. "I know exactly what you mean," he whispered. "But we have lot of reasons to be happy. For one, we're alive." "Yes," I agreed. "That's a good one." "And together," he breathed. His breath was so sweet it made my head swim.

I stared into her eyes, wide under the thick fringe of lashes, and yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to *dream*. Maybe, if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where she and I could be together. She dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of her.

I had never given much thought to how I would die, but dying in the place of someone I love doesn't seem like such a bad way to go.

And then writing, it was like I just found it, you know? Like you just found your favorite flavor of ice cream, all of a sudden there it is. 'This is what I should have been doing for the last thirty years. What was I thinking?' So I was, then I was in and then I had to just keep going with it.

I miss you when you’re not there. When you’re happy, it makes me happy. But I could say the same thing about Charlie, Jacob. You’re family. I love you, but I’m not in love with you.

I think Ian likes you too much

It was all very childish. Why on earth should Edward have to leave for Jacob to come over? Weren't we past this immaturity?