“You have to breathe," Sage was shouting in Damon's ear. "Take a breath, as if you were going to speak, but then hold onto it, as if raising your Power.Think about your insides. Get those lungs working!"
The words confused Elena.
"There!" cried Sage. "You see?"
"But it only lasts an instant. Then I need to do it again."
"But, yes, that is the point!"
"I tell you I'm dying and you laugh at me?" a disheveled Damon shouted. "I'm blind, deaf, my senses are haywire-and you laugh!”
“You stole my bouquet? From the kistune?"
"I was very careful-"
"Do you realize what you've done?" Stefan shook Damon.
"Ow. That hurts! Do you want to break my neck.”
“It's as if the world is full of honeybees and I'm the only flower" -Elena”
“There's nothing to read into. I'm just here to collect my beloved Damon and Stefan is just helping me.”
“The hell with your secrets,” shouted Bonnie.
“Language, language! How about this: One of you has kept a secret all
their life, and is doing so even now. One of you is a murderer—and I am
not speaking of a vampire, or a mercy killing, or anything like that. And
then there is the question of the true identity of Sage—good luck on your
research there!One of you has already had their memory erased—and I don’t mean
Damon or Stefan. And what about the secret, stolen kiss? And then there is
the question of what happened the night of the motel, that it seems that nobody
but Elena can recall. You might ask her sometime about her theories about
Camelot.”
“Sheriff Mossberg was one of those people who never stop speaking until
they are finished, so by this time he was saying: “Do you understand
these rights?”
“No, sir! Mi ne komprenas Dumbtalk!”
“¿Stefan? No estoy segura de que Damon comprenda lo que significa ser amado.”
“Quería a Stefan. Y a Damon su orgullo jamás le permitiría pedirle a Elena lo que sólo él deseaba, e igualmente tampoco le permitiría tomarlo sin que ella consintiera... O eso esperaba.”
“Elena colocó resueltamente sus propias manos a la espalda. Damon no era un sentimental, ni siquiera cuando se ponía en plan «Príncipe de la Noche». La rosa probablemente tenía algo que ver con el viaje que llevaban a cabo.”
“We who are so lucky as to be born into the light - who see it every day and never think about it, we're blessed. We could have been born shadow souls who live and die in crimson darkness, never even knowing that somewhere there is something better.”
“Sin tratar de influenciarla, seguía extendiendo sus enormes y suaves alas oscuras alrededor de ella para que no tuviera ningún lugar adonde correr, ningún lugar al que huir. Elena sintió que empezaba a desmayarse con la intensidad de la pasión que había forjado entre ellos y, como un gesto definitivo, no de repudio, sino de invitación, arqueó la cabeza hacia atrás, mostrándole la garganta desnuda, y dejó que percibiera su ansia. Y como si repicaran grandes campanas de cristal a lo lejos, sintió el júbilo de Damon ante su rendición voluntaria a la aterciopelada oscuridad que caía sobre ella.
No llegó a sentir los dientes que perforaban la piel y reclamaban su sangre. Antes de que eso sucediese veía estrellas. Y luego los oscuros ojos de Damon engulleron el universo.”
“No le sorprendió, tampoco, sentir una doble perforacIón en la garganta al echar la cabeza atrás: su preciosa pantera sólo estaba un poco domesticada en realidad, y necesitaba aprender algunas cosas básicas sobre la etiqueta de las citas, por ejemplo, que uno besa antes de morder.”
“¡Ese vocabulario, queridos! Qué os parece esto: uno de vosotros ha guardado un secreto toda su vida, y lo sigue haciendo en estos momentos. Uno de vosotros es un asesino; y no estoy hablando de un vampiro, ni de eutanasia ni nada por el estilo. Y luego está la cuestión de la verdadera identidad de Sage... ¡Buena suerte con vuestra investigación ahí! A uno de vosotros ya le han borrado la memoria... y no me refiero a Damon o a Stefan. ¿Y qué hay del misterioso beso robado? Y luego está la cuestión de lo sucedido en la noche del motel, que parece que nadie excepto Elena puede recordar. Podríais preguntarle algo sobre sus teorías respecto a Camelot.”
“popcorn, with Jordan fast on her heels. They sprinted into the dense growth of the overburdened flower beds and began running zigzag patterns around the sculptures. “Be careful in that mess of weeds!” I”
“God the Father has communicated to Mary His fruitfulness, as far as a mere creature was capable of it, in order that He might give her the power to produce His Son, and all the members of His mystical body.”
“Tune, tune,” said Porch briskly. He turned to Orson. “And is there a word for today?” Orson was the word person, spilling words out as if they were notes on a staff. “Rebarbative,” said Orson promptly. “Causing annoyance or irritation. Mozart’s rebarbative music causes me to want to throw up.” Porch sighed. Orson preferred Schubert.”
“Maybe part of finding what you wanted was recognizing what you didn’t want.”
“Order fails, and ghosts come in.
Now there are hands on my body, the sheets tangling like a snare around us. He stinks of cigarettes and booze, and I am floating, falling, somewhere, between here and there, and I think:
Remember me.
And I think:
Want me.
And I think:
Stay with me.
But no one ever does.”
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