For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.
For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.
I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.
It sounded like you were having Bella for lunch, and we came to see if you would share
Someone has to spread the good news that we survived.
You're intoxicated by my very presence.
Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.
I love you more than anything in the world combined.
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.
Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved.
You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me.
Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair.
I miss you when you're not there. When you're happy, it makes me happy. But I could say the same thing about Charlie, Jacob. You're family. I love you, but I'm not in love with you.
It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me - even before I was off the street - as soon as I heard his voice.
That was the first night I dreamed of Eward Cullen.
You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?
He looks at you like...like you're something to eat.
I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape.
Thats the beautiful thing about being human: Things change.
You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?
Alice is the most… supportive.
He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.
I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be.
It's not the end. It's the beginning.
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.
And then as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer.
He sparked on his body that reflect like mini mirrors of diamond
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful.
It's too easy to be myself with you.
The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green, protective forest of Forks . . . of home.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories