“The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert.”

“But even more so, it reminded me that this was all really happening. Stanford. The end of the summer. The beginning of my real life. It was no longer just creeping up, peeking over the horizon, but instead lingering in plain sight.”

“No, Bob. Just no. For crying out loud. She's seventeen. Better move quick, then, Bob said. Before anything starts to droop. Taste of perfection while you can, that's what I always say......The perverted little creep has a point, my host.”

“It was a beautiful Indian summer morning and perfect for savoring a few extra minutes in bed. There was a breeze blowing through my bedroom window; the air was as crisp as a bite of a fresh red apple.”

“Only a friend or a giraffe would stick his neck out for you. But only a giraffe would eat all the leaves off your tree so he could peek in your second story bedroom window.”

“My last sunrise. That morning, I was not yet a vampire. And I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely; yet I do not think I remember any other sunrise before it.”