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Hey, do you know what you call a blond with a brain? I asked, and the continued on the same breath, a golden retriever. I've heard that one, too, she said, no longer smiling. I'll keep trying. I promised.

Stephenie Meyer

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Stephenie Meyer
Age: 50
Born: 1973
Born: December 24
Actor
Businessperson
Film Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Stephenie Morgan Meyer
Longer
Smiling
Brain
Promised
Heard
Continued
Call
Hey
Keep
Breath
Trying
Breaths
Retriever
Golden
Retrievers
Asked
Blond

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Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.
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Isn't it supposed to be like this? He smiled. The glory of first love, and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it? Very different, I agreed. More forceful than I'd imagined.
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oh you do smell good.
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It must be a hard thing, to be a father living in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn't.
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My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn't like mathin math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.
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I feel like reading really defined me as a writer because I lived my life outside of my own body for so much of my life and I loved it. I've always been a reader. I think living all those stories served me to naturally take that next step to creating.
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Saving her life was the one acceptable thing I'd done since I met her. The one thing that I was not ashamed of. The one and only thing that made me glad I existed at all. I'd been fighting to keep her alive since the first moment I'd caught her scent.
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But I love you, “ he whispered. “Doesn't that matter?” “Of course it matters. So much. Can't you see? That only makes it more… necessary.” His eyes flashed open. “Is it so unbearable to have me love you? Is that it? I can keep my mouth shut, Wanda. I won't say it again. You can be with Jared, if that's what you want. Just stay.
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How was I ever going to fight the blurring lines in our relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?
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Ready to be humiliated, Wanda? Wes taunted. You may have taken the planet, but you're losing this game.
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It's sad when you can't make everyone happy, though. It's impossible but, at the same time, you still hope. You think, 'Maybe I can do it,' but you know you can't. But gosh, if I had to rely on giving people what they wanted, I would have had to write 40 billion different books and even then, I wouldn't get it right.
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Um, Doc said in a mild voice, medically speaking, I'm not sure that was the most helpful thing for his condition. But I feel better, Jared answered, sullen. Doc smiled the tiniest smile. Well, maybe a few more minutes of unconsciousness won't kill him.
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Who are you and what have you done with my brother?
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So eager for eternal damnation.
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I'd rather die than be with anyone but you.
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His gift is slower than Jane's. It creeps. It will touch us in a few seconds.
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He leaned over to kiss the top of my head, and then groaned. I looked at him, puzzled. You smell so good in the rain, he explained. In a good way, or in a bad way? I asked cautiously. He sighed. Both, always both.
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Let her see me clearly.
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I don't want to be a vampire. A lot of other people do and I think it's that dual nature - we have, you know, terrifying/intriguing.
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I want to be a monster too
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