Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class.
I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.
And then I carefully sealed away my heart...
Does he not feel the fire between his body and mine? Is that all me? How can it be all me? It feels like a flat sun trapped between us – pressed like a flower between the pages of a thick book, burning the paper.” – Melanie.
We each had a hundred arms and on each arm a thousand eyes, so that, with our thoughts connected, not one sight in the vast waters went unseen. There was no need for sound, so there was no way to hear it. We tasted the waters, and, with our sight, that told us all we needed to know. We tasted the suns, so many leagues above the water, and turned their taste into the food we needed.
I grabbed his face in my hands and waited until he opened his eyes. “You and me. That’s the only thing that matters. The only thing you’re allowed to think about now. Do you hear me?
The piercing, heartbroken howling grew fainter and then disappeared entirely.
This love was tricky; it had no hard-and-fast rules – it might be given for free, as with Jamie, or earned through time and hard work, as with Ian, or completely and heartbreakingly unattainable, as with Jared. Or.
There was no greater bond than one that required your life for another’s.
No one’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.
His lips froze, and I could almost hear the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions. He.
My last night in my room. My last night as Isabella Swan. Tomorrow night, I would be Bella Cullen.
No one’s young anymore. Anyone who’s survived this long is ancient.” – Melanie.
Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn’t even have time to close my eyes.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America.
How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself?
Flying doesn’t bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.
Ho detto che sarebbe meglio se non diventassimo amici, non che non voglio.
My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.
When he wakes up,” Daniel murmured gently, “I’m going to punch him in the throat.