A Quote by Stephenie Meyer

His skin was a pretty colour, it made me jealous. Jacob noticed my scrutiny. What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious. "Nothing. I just hadn't realised before. Did you know, you're sort of beautiful?" Once the words slipped out, I worried that he might take my implusive observation the wrong way. But Jacob rolled his eyes. "You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you?" "I'm serious." Well, then, thanks. Sort of." I grinned. "You're sort of welcome.
Did you know, you're sort of beautiful?' 'You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you?
I feel when acting, I am sometimes overly self-conscious; I think, 'Going, no, don't, put your eyebrow back where it was and, you know, turn to the left.' You know, I'm sort of very consciously adopting this character. But with music, I don't know. I found it was a question of just closing my eyes and just sort of letting things come out.
You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.
This was why I was here. This was why I would take whatever reception waited for me when I got back. Because, underneath all the anger and the sarcasm, Jacob was in pain. Right now, it was very clear in his eyes. I didn't know how to help him, but I knew I had to try. It was more than that I owed him. It was because his pain hurt me, too. Jacob had become a part of me, and there was no changing that now.
The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he slipped out of his room. All was drowned by its silence. But Jacob loved the night. He felt it on his skin like a promise. Like a cloak woven from freedom and danger.
Finding another way to do what I know I can do pretty well. A way that stimulates me. I'm always on some sort of learning curve. If I can continually be surprised then I'm alert.
Your favorite colour . . . it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.
It was near curfew time, and I was dropping him off for the night. He shook his head. "Rose, I don't know if you're crazy or not, but I'm actually starting to think you might be the best guardian- or soon-to-be guardian- out there." "Did you just give me a serious compliment?" I asked. He turned his back on me and headed inside his dorm. "Good night.
I see you're determined to miss my point." "If you're point is that there was a pretty girl in the room and it was distracting you, then I think I've taken your point handily." "You think she's pretty?" Will was surprised; Jem rarely opinioned this sort of thing. "Yes, and you do too." "I hadn't noticed, really." "Yes, you have, and I've noticed you noticing.
The term 'overachiever' sort of makes it look like the person has mediocre talent and he just works so hard that he achieves beyond what you would think. 'Overachiever' is sort of a - it's sort of an incorrect term. An overachiever is someone that's just willing to pay the price to get so much more out of his performance.
And I guess the thing that I really sort of rely on in me is that I love racing and I love competing and so I know that you know when the time comes and the pressure's on and I have to swim well, I'm sort of able to pull it out and sort of get the best out of myself.
Money is a sort of instinct. It's a sort of property of nature in a person to make money. It's nothing you do. It's no trick you play. It's a sort of permanent accident of your own nature; once you start, you make money, and you go on. . . But you've got to begin. . . You've got to get in. You can do nothing if you are kept outside. You've got to beat your way in. Once you've done that, you can't help it!
While the idea of taking you right now, against the wall, is enough to make me lose control, I want you to know that I’m serious. You’re not a hook up. You’re not a friend with benefits. You’re more than that to me.” I closed my eyes, breathing heavily. “Well, that was…really sort of perfect.” “I’m really sort of perfect … Everyone else knows that. You’re just a little slow on the uptake.
You know, I think I did originally have some sort of idea of maybe a Where Eagles Dare kind of mission against impossible odds, but it really sort of died before I had a chance to really go anywhere with it, and then just doing the book was out of the question.
Usually I'm pretty myopic. It's hard for me to multi-task, so to speak. If I'm in a show and I'm creating a character, I'm just completely into that. It's really hard for me to do anything else like write music. I have to sort of shut down different sides of my head and just focus.
I was pretty much a goody-two shoes at school - a bit boring, didn't get in trouble with teachers - it was classical Yorkshire: a lot of respect to your elders. Once I started playing cricket that sort of slipped away.
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