I can’t seem to be a pessimist long enough to overlook the possibility of things being overwhelmingly good.

When one is sitting in his bedroom and, happening to glance out the window, sees his little brother walking slowly down the driveway, he immediately jumps up, knocks over a stack of magazines piled up...

I’m sorry, Cullen. I really am. I know this sucks. But you’re better off anyway. And you’ll be fine. You needed me. Now someone else needs me.