“I’d rather die than be with anyone but you.”

Today is the first and last day of forever.

You are the most beautiful thing in my world.

You dont know how hard it was for me to take you and leave them alive.

It felt almost rude to ignore toe pretty white bed, but we just weren’t going to make it that far.

Death is Peaceful, Life is Harder.

Life and love go on.

Her name is Wanda, not it. You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide.

She was thinking what I think she was thinking, wasn’t she?

Is my mom all right? She’s perfectly fine. don’t worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn’t come alone, of course. Light, amused. I’m alone. I’d never been more alone in my entire life.

I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind.

You don’t get a lot of suicidal vampires.

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.

There really is something irresistible about a lost cause.

Bears, I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? Stray bear in town. OF course it would head straight for Bella.

History was easy, but I don’t know about the Calculus. It seemed like it was making sense, so that probably means I failed.

I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me.

A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.

Call no man happy until he is dead.

If I was in a horrorfilm I’d die first, because I would have no idea what’s going on.

And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence awaits.

Sorrows must die with the joys they outnumber.

Each say following another, either hastening or putting off our death–what pleasure does it bring? I count that man worthless whois cheered by empty hopes. No, a noble man must either live or die well.

The only happy artist is a dead artist, because only then you can’t change. After I die, I’ll probably come back as a paintbrush.

Gray hairs are death’s blossoms.