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I picked up my much-abused copy of Wuthering Heights from where I’d left it this morning at breakfast,
“You and Billy gossip like old women,” I complained,
I don’t know how Heathcliff and Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn’t a love story, it’s a hate story.”
speaking of Italy and sports cars that I stole there, you still owe me a yellow Porsche.
Something Edward didn’t want me to know. Something that Jacob wouldn’t have kept from me.
but I wondered if it wasn’t a little foolish to sit around, weak and tasty, waiting for the next disaster.
or did you want to scream at me some more for things that are out of my control?”
“But I am a werewolf,” he said unwillingly. “And he is a vampire,” he added with obvious revulsion. “And I’m a Virgo!” I shouted, exasperated.
I don’t care who’s a werewolf and who’s a vampire. If Angela turns out to be a witch, she can join the party, too.”
“Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn’t have a happy ending—but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we’d all be under gravestones now.”
I was just having Anne of Green Gables flashbacks.
“Jasper, you have a scar exactly like mine.”
My khaki skirt lay over the back of the rocking chair,
Mind your own business.” “You are my business.”
“You are so annoying,” I muttered. “Thanks.”
“Did I hurt your feelings?” he asked, shocked. “No,” I lied.
You know, Edward, as a brother, you are sometimes a disappointment.”
“Are you all right?” he murmured, his voice anxious. “No. I want to die.”
then tripped over something—my own feet probably.
He was nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving all morning.
Why didn’t anyone ever try to kill me when I wanted to die?
But I didn’t care if time healed me or not, so long as Jacob could get better.

