What's funny about that is when I was writing Twilight just for myself and not thinking of it as a book, I was not thinking about publishing, and yet at the same time I was casting it in my head. Because when I read books, I see them very visually.

Mike's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Don't kid yourself, Bella. The guy's head over heels for you." "I know," I sighed. "Life is complicated." "And girls are cruel," Mike said under his breath.

it’s awful. No privacy, no secrets. Everything you’re ashamed of, laid out for everyone to see.

Hasn’t anyone ever told you? Life isn’t fair.

It's twilight. It’s the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way...the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?

I'd been broken beyond repair.

What was it that made this human love so much more desirable to me than the love of my own kind? Was it because it was exclusive and capricious? The souls offered love and acceptance to all. Did I crave a greater challenge?...Or was it simply better somehow? Because these humans hate with so much fury, was the other end of the spectrum that they could love with more heart and zeal and fire?