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All of her bones seemed more purposeful than other people’s. Like they weren’t just there to hold her up, they were there to make a point.

Rainbow Rowell

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Rainbow Rowell
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 24
Author
Journalist
Novelist
Prosaist
Writer
NE
Like
People
Purposeful
Weren
Bones
Seemed
Hold
Point
Make

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Or maybe, he thought now, he just didn't recognize all those other girls. The way a computer drive will spit out a disk if it doesn't recognize the formatting. When he touched Eleanor's hand, he recognized her. He knew.
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Things get better--hurt less--over time. If you let them.
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You flirt with everything. She could tell that her eyes were popping-- her eyeballs actually felt cold around the edges. You flirt with old people and babies and everybody in between.
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I couldn't love anyone more than I do you, it would kill me. And I couldn't love anyone less because it would always feel like less. Even if I loved some other girl, that's all I would ever think about, the difference between loving her and loving you.
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You look different. You look unsettling.’ ‘You look like you,’ he said. ‘You with the volume turned up.
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You're not the ugly one. Levi Grinned. You're just the Clark Kent... ... Will you warn me when you take off your glasses?
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I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn't that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with another planet). You can still see it in the sky. It's just farther away.
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As I moved to less and less diverse places in my life, I realized that white people dont talk about race amongst themselves!
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The worst thing about the internet, as far as Greg's bosses were concerned, was that it was now impossible to distinguish a roomful of people working diligently from a roomful of people taking the What-Kind-of-Dog-Am-I? online personality quiz
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But you're so helpless sometimes. It's like watching a kitten with its head trapped in a Kleenex box.
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It was like their lives were overlapping lines, like they had their own gravity. Usually, that serendipity thing felt like the nicest thing the universe had ever done for her.
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You're never going to find a guy who's exactly like you - first of all, because that guy never leaves his dorm room.
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It felt good to be writing in her own room, in her own bed. To get lost in the World of Mages and stay lost. To not hear any voices in her head but Simon's and Baz's. Not even her own. This was why Cath wrote fic. For these hours when their world supplanted the real world.
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Well, at first, I was sure that he would feel the cosmic forces pulling us together. I wanted him so badly, I could feel my heart racing for him with every beat. It was destiny. He was a magnet and I was steel.
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Well,” she said. “I’m frustrated.” “Don’t make me angry-kiss you.” “Give me the laundry.” “Tempers rising, faces flushed … This is how it happens.
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Have you ever heard sculptors say that they don’t actually sculpt an object they sculpt away everything that isn’t the object?
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Cath wanted to go back and rewrite every scene she'd ever written about Baz or Simon's chests. She'd written them flat and sharp and hard. Levi was all soft motion and breath, curves and warm hollows. Levi's chest was a living thing.
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it’s like swimming upstream. Or … falling down a cliff and grabbing at branches, trying to invent the branches as I fall.
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You flirt with old people and babies and everybody in between.
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I don’t just kiss people. Kisses aren’t... just with me.
Rainbow Rowell