I don't think all writers are sad, she said.I think it's the other way around—all sad people write.

Before I fellin love with words, with setting skies and singing birds—it was you I fellin love with first.

She lends her pen, to thoughts of him, that flow from it, in her solitary.For she is his poet, And he is her poetry.

Xs and OsLove is a gameof tic-tac-toe, constantly waiting, for the next x or o.

Without a doubt, I must read, all the booksI've read about.See the artworkshung on hooks, that I have only, seen in books.

The scatterbrain, is a little like, the patter of rain.Neither here, nor there, but everywhere.

Do you love me?" I ask.In your hesitation I found my answer.

What was it like to lose him?" Asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded:It was like hearing every goodbye ever said tome—said all at once.

In a sea of strangers, you've longed to know me.Your life spent sailingto my shores.

To find the universal elements enough

I'd rather be miserable and free than happy and caged.

If you only think of yourself, there's no room for another in marriage.

Her beauty was enough to get her into most any situation she desired and her tongue—sharp and venomous—was enough to get her out again.

What would happen if you stopped fighting, and gave yourself permission to feel? Not just the good things, but everything?

I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as smart and beautiful as you.”"You were you. And maybe that was enough.

I'd always wanted to grow my hair out. And now looking back on those photos I understand why I probably shouldn't have.

In the end, all critics should be guided by this one principle: Is this piece of work [TV show, movie, play, concert, album, restaurant] succeeding at what it set out to do?

I tried his cell over and over but he never answered. Then I’d call just to hear his voice on the outgoing message, until eventually that was gone too.

My mother is part albino." Bella Swan