The only parents in the world who don’t need sleep, and our child already sleeps through the night. Edward Cullen, Breaking Dawn, Chapter 22, p.429

I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house―condemned―for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all―just the one small piece. He deserved better than that―better than a one-room, falling-down fixer-upper. No amount of investment on his part could put me back in working order.

If you don’t send Edward out, we’re coming in after him! (Emmett)

We value the individual. We probably put too much emphasis on the individual, if it comes right down to it. How many people, in the abstract, would...let's say Paige....how many people would she sacrifice to keep Andy alive? The answer wouldn't make any sense if you were looking at the whole of humanity as equals.

I'm trying to keep"― he huffed, shifting his weight as the treetop bounced him―"my promise!" I blinked my wet blurry eyes, suddenly sure that I was dreaming. "When did you ever promise to kill yourself falling out of Charlie's tree?

Can't you just thank me and get over it?" "Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant. "You're not going to let it go, are you?" "No." "In that case . . . I hope you enjoy disappointment." We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel. "Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly. He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I don't know," he whispered.

Jacob was a gift from the gods.