Јована Пантић

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The Idiot
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Stephenie Meyer
“You…made…me…faint,” I accused him dizzily.
“What am I going to do with you?” he groaned in exasperation. “Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!”
I laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun.
“So much for being good at everything,” he sighed.
“That's the problem.” I was still dizzy. “You're too good. Far, far too good.”
Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

Honoré de Balzac
“All humanity is passion; without passion, religion, history, novels, art would be ineffectual.”
Honore de Balzac

William Shakespeare
“Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.”
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Honoré de Balzac
“True love is eternal, infinite and always like itself. It's always equal and pure. Without violent demonstrations: It is seen with white hairs and is always young at heart.”
Honore de Balzac

Stephenie Meyer
“You're interesting when you sleep." He spoke matter-of-factly. "You talk."

"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I gripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about here, though.

His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?" "That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of me. He waited. "On?" he urged. "What you heard!" I wailed.

Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his. "Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of my eyes, holding my gaze. I was embarrassed. I tried to look away. "You miss your mother," he whispered. "You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'" He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

"Anything else?" I demanded. He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted. I sighed in defeat. "A lot?" "How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?" "Oh no!" I hung my head. He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.

"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it.”
Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

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