New Moon (Twilight, #2)

by Stephenie Meyer

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.

Losing track of time was the most I asked from life.

Between pain and nothing, I’d chosen nothing.

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.

The bond forged between us was not one that could be broken by absence, distance, or time.

If you stay, I don’t need heaven.”