“Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.”

When he left, you spent all your energy holding on to him. You could be happy if you let go.

Try not to trip. We don’t have time for a concussion today.

Jacob’s little smirk became a full-blown grin, and I knew he was picturing Charlie showing up to arrest him. This grin was too bitter, too full of mocking to satisfy me. This wasn’t the smile I’d been waiting to see.

I felt like I was staring out across an ocean that I was going to have to swim from shore to shore before I could rest again.

If we could bottle your luck, we’d have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands.

Maybe you’ll get lucky. I said bleakly, lurching on my feet. Maybe I’ll get hit by a truck on my way back.

It’s not the end. It’s the beginning.

It was a strange combination to absorb – the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London.

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. You truly are one frightening little monster.

I glanced, wide eyed, from Edward’s grimace to Jacob’s sneer.

Your hair looks like a haystack but I like it.

When I told you I didn’t want you, it was the blackest kind of blasphemy.

So what are you going to tell her? A little help? I pleaded. What does she want to know? He shook his head, grinning wickedly. That’s not fair. No, you not sharing what you know-now that’s not fair.

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.

When a bud breaks it becomes a flower, when a heart breaks it becomes divine.

It’s kind of ironic when I broke in at 17, I was told I was too small, too slow and I wouldn’t make the NHL.

Soft hearts bleed kindness, like broken hearts bleed love.

Love me to the bone beneath the nerves beyond my mistakes beneath my veins and even as my heart breaks. Love me entirely or not at all.

A lot of country music is sad. I think most art comes out of poverty and hard times. It applies to music. Three chords and the truth – that’s what a country song is. There is a lot of heartache in the world.

Those broken girls have the deepest love.

Who were you before the aches of a broken heart? Who were you before the world decided to tear you apart?

The broken girls are the flowers of the earth they grow through tough conditions they bloom for themselves,