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Yes Rosalie, we all know how proficient of an assassin you are.

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
Rosalie
Proficient
Assassin
Assassins

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His voice was like honey and velvet. Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty, he murmured, and I recognized the line spoken by Romeo in the tomb.
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You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me.
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I’m afraid you’re going to have to make a choice.
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I always needed that extra fantasy world. I had to have another world I could be in at the same time.
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I'd rather die than be with anyone but you.
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He's like a drug for you, Bella.
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As if you could outrun me.
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I'd never understood how Carlisle was able to do that - ignore the blood of his patients in order to treat them. Wouldn't the constant temptation be so distracting, so dangerous? But now, I could see how, if you were focusing on something else hard enough, the temptation was be nothing at all.
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Not many people get every single thing they want plus all the things they didn't think to ask for in the same day.
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Death is Peaceful, Life is Harder
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I tried, after I wrote 'Twilight,' to read 'The Historian,' because it was the big thing that summer. But I can't read other people's vampires. If it's too close, I get upset if it's too far away, I get upset. It just makes me very neurotic.
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I love you, I said in a low, intense voice. I will always love you, no matter what happens now.
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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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You don’t have anything like this. For crying out loud, you only own one skirt!
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It was sort of the pattern to my life - I'd never been strong enough to deal with the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain. Always human and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to do was keep going. Endure. Survive.
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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.
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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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Forever, Edward echoed in my ear. I couldn't speak anymore. I lifted my head and kissed him with a passion that might possibly set the forest on fire. I wouldn't have noticed.
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