Stephenie Meyer

"You're awfully small to be so hugely irritating."

"Over my pile of ashes," Rosalie hissed at him.

"Who rules you, nomads? Do you answer to someone's will besides your own? Are you free to choose your own path, or will the Volturi decide how you will live?

"I came to witness. I stay to fight. The Volturi care nothing for the death of a child. They seek the death of our free will."

"No one will dare to call you plain when I'm through with you."

"Only because they're afraid you'll suck their blood," I muttered.

"Do you want me to sing to you? I'll sing all night if it will keep the bad dreams away."

That would go away, you know, if you imprinted. You wouldn't have to hurt over [Bella] anymore.

Do you want to forget the way you feel about Sam?

She deliberated for a moment. I think I do.

I sighed. She was in a healthier place than I was.

It wasn't nearly as easy to dance with Charlie. He was no better at it than I was, so we moved safely from side to side in a tiny square formation. Edward and Esme spun around us like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

"Don't be afraid," I muttered. "We belong together."

I was abruptly overwhelmed by the truth of my own words. This moment was so perfect, so right, there was no way to doubt it.

Jacob — you can't turn your back on the tribe. [...]

I stared into his furious eyes. Ephraim Black's son was not born to follow Levi Uley's.

I wondered if I was a monster. Not the kind that [Edward] thought he was, but the real kind. The kind that hurt people. The kind that had no limits when it came to what they wanted.

"You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault. [...] You didn't choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good."

"I don't know that I'm making up for anything," he disagreed lightly. "Like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given."

They stood out from the rest of the crowd, their beauty and grace otherworldly. I wondered how I'd ever fallen for their human farce. A couple of angels, standing there with wings intact, would be less conspicuous.