A Quote by Stephenie Meyer

My skin burns where it meets his. It feels better than good, but it sets off a strange aching in my chest. — © Stephenie Meyer
My skin burns where it meets his. It feels better than good, but it sets off a strange aching in my chest.
A brave heart? It feels like a swollen and aching thing in my chest.
It was very strange, for I knew we were both in mortal danger. Still, in that instant, I felt well. Whole. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the blood pulsing hot and fast through my veins again. My lungs filled deep with the sweet scent that came off his skin. It was like there had never been any hole in my chest. I was perfect - not healed, but as if there had been no wound in the first place.
One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.
A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one.
I have a hard time narrowing things down to ten or 12 songs. If I walk off stage in anything less than two hours, it just feels strange. It feels early.
A magician is strong because he feels pain. He feels the difference between what the world is and what he would make of it. Or what did you think that stuff in your chest was? A magician is strong because he hurts more than others. His wound is his strength.
She smiled, and there it was again, that aching pressure in his chest. Love, or a heart attack. Kind of the same thing.
I like to say that while antimatter may seem strange, it is strange in the sense that Belgians are strange. They are not really strange; it is just that one rarely meets them.
Not having alcohol has kept the weight off around my waist; my skin feels so much better, and I am sleeping really well.
One trophy is good, but two are better. That way, when a hero wears his medals on his chest, at least his steps are level as he walks by.
In honest truth, a name given to a man is no better than a skin given to him; what is not natively his own falls off and comes to nothing.
We get on well and it won't be too much trouble spending so much time with him. He has a strange way of sleeping as he likes to kick off all the blankets and just have them up by his chest.
Take off your shirt." Jace raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to attack you," she said impatiently. "I can take the sight of your naked chest without swooning." "Are you sure?" he asked, obediently sliding the shirt off his shoulders. "Because viewing my naked chest has caused many women to seriously injure themselves stampeding to get to me.
I didn't know his middle name or his favorite color, but I knew how his thoughts felt caressing my mind. The bright tang of his adrenaline coursing under my skin. The force of his heart, strong and rhythmic and a bit sad, pumping within my own chest.
In civilized society external advantages make us more respected. A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one. You may analyze this and say, What is there in it? But that will avail you nothing, for it is a part of a general system.
I don't see my skin aging. I see my skin looking as good, or better, than it did ten years ago...and that makes me smile.
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