Life sucks, and then you die...
For one half second, I wondered what it would feel like to put my hand in the fire. What it would feel like when I burned...
What if I’m not a superhero. What if I’m the bad guy?
You’re awfully small to be so hugely irritating.
Do you remember when you told me I couldn’t see myself clearly? You obviously have the same blindness.
They call her my singer – because her blood sings for me.
I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.
If you turned the fabric of our lives over, I imagined the design on the backside would be woven in the bleak grays of doubt and fear.
It’s over. We’ve all been sentenced to die.
Next time you want to hit me hit me with a baseball bat or a crowbar!
Are you referring to the fact that you can’t walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?
Now and then I see something in her eyes, and I wonder if I’ve ever grasped how much pain she’s really in.
I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me. I won’t come back. I won’t put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.
Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside.
The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.
I tried, after I wrote ‘Twilight,’ to read ‘The Historian,’ because it was the big thing that summer. But I can’t read other people’s vampires. If it’s too close, I get upset; if it’s too far away, I get upset. It just makes me very neurotic.
Well, I’m so sorry that I can’t be the right kind of monster for you, Bella.
The part that kills me is that you already know. I already told you everything!
That maybe you should make the most of what time you have? That you shouldlive while you’re alive?
Body and soul. Two different things.