Stephenie Meyer

He once again slid my ring into place on the third finger of my left hand.
Where it would stay—conceivably for the rest of eternity.

as long as we both shall live.”

I love you,” he said.
I leaned my head against his arm. “That’s why we’re here,”

This is Isle Esme.

Do you want me to sing to you? I’ll sing all night if it will keep the bad dreams away.

I want your permission to save her life

“Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee.”

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green — an alien planet.