A Quote by Stephenie Meyer
No one could be still like Edward.
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Of course, I still saw Edward at school, because there wasn't anything Charlie [her dad] could do about that. And then, Edward spent almost every night in my room, too, but Charlie wasn't precisely aware of that. Edward's ability to climb easily and silently through my second-story window was almost as useful as his ability to read Charlie's mind.
I tensed for the spring, my eyes squinting as I cringed away, and the sound of Edward's furious roar echoed distantly in the back of my head. His name burst through all the walls I'd built to contain it. Edward, Edward, Edward. I was going to die. It shouldn't matter if I thought of him now. Edward, I love you.
I would probably never be able to do anything interesting or special like Edward, Alice and Jasper could do. Maybe I would just love Edward more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone else.
My old mind hadn’t been capable of holding this much love. My old heart had not been strong enough to bear it. Maybe this was the part of me that I’d brought forward to be intensified in my new life. Like Carlisle’s compassion and Esme’s devotion. I would probably never be able to do anything interesting or special like Edward, Alice, and Jasper could do. Maybe I would just love Edward more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone else. I could live with that.
I tried to picture a young, insecure Edward and couldn't, but it was nice to know that once he'd been a boy. Sometimes it felt like Edward had sprung full grown from the head of some violent deity,like a vicious version of Athena.
Honestly, I had no idea that the heart could cause such trouble and strife. It could be broken and still mend. It could be wounded and still heal. It could be given away still returned, lost and found. It could do all that and still you lived, though according to some, only just.
[My photography teacher] gave me the Mexican Day Books of Edward Weston and just blew me away with this work. The fact that you could be this fabulous visual artist, with all this milieu of people like Diego Rivera and you could sleep with these gorgeous, amazing women, that you could live that life - that photography could deliver you that life.
Jacob was hardly in need of any physical protection I could offer. But my arms, pinned beneath Edward's, yearned to reach out to him. To wrap around his big, warm, waist in a silent promise of acceptance and comfort. Edward's shielding arms had become restraints.
Edward stretched out his arm, his hand curled into a fist. Seth grinned, revealing the long row of dagger teeth, and bumped his nose against Edward's hand. "Nice teamwork," Edward murmured.
I'm only 24 so I like to think I'm still close enough to 17 to still remember what it was like. Besides, I could just fake it and get away with it... it's not like there are any teenagers that still read comics.
I am not really breaking any rules. Charlie said I could never take another step through the door again... I came in through the window... Still, the intent was clear," said Edward.
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane began with a friend giving me a rabbit doll - forgive me, Edward, for using that word; he doesn't like "doll" - for Christmas. I said, "Oh, he's lovely, what's his name?" And she said, "Edward." And a few days after I received the rabbit, who was dressed very handsomely in Edwardian kind of clothes, I saw him stripped of his finery and face down on the bottom of the ocean floor. Why? I don't know. But that's where his story began in my head.
I wish i'd hurt him I didn't do any damage at all-Bella I can fix that-edward I was hoping you would say that-bella there was a slight pause "that doesn't sound like you what did he do"-edward he kissed me-bella all i heard on the other end of the line was the sound of an engine accelerating
I was a million percent in love with Edward Scissorhands. I remember looking in the mirror on the last day of shooting... and thinking how sad I was to be saying goodbye to Edward.
I still had the same frustration with trying to play [Edward Cullen], the entire way through, right up until the last shot. It's a strange part because, on the one hand, a lot of the audience projects their idea of Edward[Cullen] onto him. It doesn't matter what he is. They want him to be a certain way. And then, my instincts were to try and play it and to try to find the fallibility in him and the weaknesses.
Is the fire gone?" "Yes," I sighed. "Thank you, Edward." "I love you," he answered. "I know," I breathed, so tired. I heard my favorite sound in the world: Edward's quiet laugh, weak with relief.
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