"Snow falling softly on lashes of eyes you love, and a cold cheek growing warm next to your own in hushed dark familial December."

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Do I dazzle you?" I voiced my curiosity impulsively, and then the words were out, and it was too late to recall them. But before I had time to too deeply regret speaking the words aloud, she answered "Frequently." And her cheeks took on a faint pink glow. I dazzled her. My silent heart swelled with a hope more intense than I could ever remember having felt before.

— Stephenie Meyer