Good Luck, Little Wanderer, Good Luck. How

I Wanted Him Like I Wanted Air To Breathe. Not A Choice- A Necessity.

What's Funny About That Is When I Was Writing Twilight Just For Myself And Not Thinking Of It As A Book, I Was Not Thinking About Publishing, And Yet At The Same Time I Was Casting It In My Head. Because When I Read Books, I See Them Very Visually.

So, Did You Stab Edward Cullen With A Pencil Or What? I've Never Seen Him Act Like That.

She Looked Around Herself, Disoriented, Like She’d Forgotten We Were At Lunch. Like She’d Forgotten We Were Even At School-surprised That We Were Not Alone In Some Private Place. I Understood That Feeling Exactly. It Was Hard To Remember The Rest Of The World When I Was With Her.

But On A Clear, Sunny Day? How Would She Know To Flee When She Couldn't See Any Place For Danger To Hide?