Цитаты из книги Молодий місяць

I saw him, and I had no will to fight. It was so clear, so much more defined than any memory. My subconscious had stored Edward away in flawless detail, saving him for this final moment. I could see his perfect face as if he were really there; the exact shade of his icy skin, the shape of his lips, the line of his jaw, the gold glinting in his furious eyes. He was angry, naturally, that I was giving up. His teeth were clenched and his nostrils flared with rage. "No! Bella, no!" My ears were flooded with the freezing water, but his voice was clearer than ever. I ignored his words and concentrated on the sound of his voice. Why would I fight when I was so happy where I was? Even as my lungs burned for more air and my legs cramped in the icy cold, I was content. I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like. Happiness. It made the whole dying thing pretty bearable. The current won at that moment, shoving me abruptly against something hard, a rock invisible in the gloom. It hit me solidly across the chest, slamming into me like an iron bar, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs, escaping in a thick cloud of silver bubbles. Water flooded down my throat, choking and burning. The iron bar seemed to be dragging me, pulling me away from Edward, deeper into the dark, to the ocean floor. "Goodbye, I love you", was my last thought.

"I stepped out to the edge, keeping my eyes on the empty space in front of me. My toes felt ahead blindly, caressing the edge of the rock when they encountered it. I drew in a deep breath and held it . . waiting. "Bella." I smiled and exhaled. Yes? I didn't answer out loud, for fear that the sound of my voice would shatter the beautiful illusion. He sounded so real, so close. It was only when lie was disapproving like this that I could hear the true memory of his voice—the velvet texture and the musical intonation that made up the most perfect of all voices. "Don't do this," he pleaded. You wanted me to be human, I reminded him. Well, watch me. "Please. For me." But you won't stay with me any other way. "Please." It was just a whisper in the blowing rain that tossed my hair and drenched my clothes—making me as wet as if this were my second jump of the day. I rolled up onto the balls of my feet. "No, Bella!" He was angry now, and the anger was so lovely. I smiled and raised my arms straight out, as if I were going to dive, lifting my face into the rain. But it was too ingrained from years of swimming at the public pool—feet first, first time. I leaned forward, crouching to get more spring… And I flung myself off the cliff."

What kind of a place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wandering around the borders of tiny, insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this means every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or everything just magic and ghost stories? *** Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Julet. Thats why it was a good story. "Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris" would have never been a hit.