It's Not What You Are. It's What

Lie To Me. She Whispered. I Love You. He Said.

I Stared Because Their Faces, So Different, So Similar, Were All Devastatingly, Inhumanly Beautiful.

His Gift Is Slower Than Jane's. It Creeps. It Will Touch Us In A Few Seconds.

I Could See How Easy It Would Be To Fall Into Loving Bella. It Would Be Exactly Like Falling: Effortless. Not Letting Myself Love Her Was The Opposite Of Falling—it Was Pulling Myself Up A Cliff-face, Hand Over Hand, The Task As Grueling As If I Had No More Than Mortal Strength.

If You Throw A Frog In A Pot Of Boiling Water, It Will Hop Right Out. But If You Put That Frog In A Pot Of Tepid Water And Slowly Warm It, The Frog Doesn't Figure Out What Going On Until It's Too Late. Boiled Frog. It's Just A Metter Of Working By Slow Degrees.