“He was giving up on keeping me alive, letting nature–or rather mob justice–take its course. When he returned, and I was dead, he wouldn’t hold anyone responsible. He would not mourn. All this I could hear in those three words.”

The right thing isn’t always real obvious. Sometimes the right thing for one person is the wrong thing for someone else. So…good luck figuring that out.

When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options.

After all, what was more important, in the end, than love?

Who gives an island as a gift? I frowned. I hadn’t realized Edward’s extreme generosity was a learned behavior.

Once you cared about a person, it was impossible to be logical about them anymore.

It sounded like you were having Bella for lunch, and we came to see if you would share.

I feel like humor is a part of life. I don’t think it comes through as much in the novels as it does in my head.

I figured if I played nice, I’d get more time with you.

Even if we all want you here, you don’t belong until you decide you do.

I was much more upset by the situation with Jacob than by the possibility of being eaten by a bear.

That’s not very attractive behavior, Bella. he said. Forgiveness is divine. Mind your own buisness.

And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.

Darkness is so predictable.

Perhaps there could be no joy on this planet without an equal weight of pain to balance it out on some unknown scale.

Like all bullies, they’re cowards underneath the swagger.

Sometimes, fact mixed with fiction so thoroughly that, though no lies were told, it was hard to remember what was strictly true.

I was totally alive when I wrote this because by coincidence someone just said your name.

I don’t believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.

We’re so engaged in doing things to achieve purposes of outer value that we forget the inner value, the rapture that is associated with being alive, is what it is all about.

It makes me sad when I see artists who come alive when they go onstage, because, gee, I really come alive when I’m home.

To be alive is to be broken; to be broken is to stand in need of grace.

And perhaps the greatest paradox of all is how we stand here, fully wounded yet never more alive.

The things that made me feel dead, made me feel alive again.

And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.