Stephenie Meyer
Stephenie Meyer
Stephenie Meyeris an American young-adult fiction writer and film producer, best known for her vampire romance series Twilight. The Twilight novels have gained worldwide recognition and sold over 100 million copies, with translations into 37 different languages. Meyer was the bestselling author of 2008 and 2009 in America, having sold over 29 million books in 2008, and 26.5 million books in 2009. Twilight was the best-selling book of 2008 in US bookstores...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth24 December 1973
CityHartford, CT
CountryUnited States of America
Perhaps there could be no joy on this planet without an equal weight of pain to balance it out on some unknown scale.
He squeezes my hand, and my heart punches against my ribs. It's just like pain, this pleasure.
i did know this- every second i spent with her was only going to add to the pain i would have suffer later
No, I had never intentionally caused anyone physical pain, but I had hurt Ian deeply enough just by hurting myself. Human lives were so impossibly tangled. What a mess.
I couldn’t get the words exactly right; I only remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother so that we could love each other without any confusion or pain.
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.
And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain - the aching loss that radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head - but it was manageable. I could live through it. I didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it.
Like we were connected, the echo of his pain twisted inside inside me. his pain, my pain.
He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.
It will be as if I'd never existed, he'd promised me. I felt the smooth wooden floor beneath my knees, and then the palms of my hands, and then it was pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.
I wondered how long it could last. Maybe someday, years from now.If the pain would decrease to the point where I could bear it.I would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of my life.
He was a different Edward than the one I had known. And I felt all the more besotted by him. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from him now.
Now and then I see something in her eyes, and I wonder if I’ve ever grasped how much pain she’s really in.
The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.