Leah Meyer

“Edward,” she mumbled softly.
She was dreaming of me.
Could a dead, frozen heart beat again? It felt as though mine was about to.
“Stay,” she sighed. “Don’t go. Please… don’t go.” She was dreaming of me, and it wasn’t even a nightmare. She wanted me to stay with her, there in her dream.
I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them.
When I surfaced, I was not the same man I had been.
My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight”
― Stephenie Meyer, Midnight Sun

“As I met her penetrating gaze, read the surprise and the sympathy there, I abruptly yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to dream. Maybe if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where she and I could be together. She dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of her.”
― Stephenie Meyer, Midnight Sun

“It is possible to be homesick for a place even when you are there.”
― Don DeLillo, White Noise

“I had the epiphany that laughter was light, and light was laughter, and that this was the secret of the universe.”
― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch