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To really be a nerd, she'd decided, you had to prefer fictional worlds to the real one.

Rainbow Rowell

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Rainbow Rowell
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 24
Author
Journalist
Novelist
Prosaist
Writer
NE
Worlds
Prefer
Decided
Real
Really
Life
World
Fictional
Nerd

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I'd rather be broken than wasted.
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He wound the scarf around his fingers until her hand was hanging in the space between them. Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm. And Eleanor disintegrated.
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God, his chin. She wanted to make an honest woman of his chin. She wanted to lock it down.
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The snow came up to the top of Georgie's calves - she had to lift her feet high to make any progress. Her ears and eyelids were freezing ... God, she'd never even been able to imagine this much cold before. How could people live someplace that so obviously didn't want 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 want everyone to meet you. You're my favorite person of all time.
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I've never loved the name Rainbow - it seems like a name you'd give to your stuffed unicorn - but I really like having an unusual name. It stands out. And it made me feel like it was okay to stand out. To be different.
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My girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.
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I think as an author you have to allow a movie to be separate from the book. It's an entirely different animal. I almost never mind when a movie changes or cuts something - as long as it helps the film work better.
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He always kept me just on the edge of crazy. Feeling like I wanted him too much, which just made me want him more. That sounds excruciating.
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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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Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice it was supposed to make you feel something.
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That girl had the subtlety of a Spencer’s Gifts shop.
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Don't bite his face, Eleanor told herself. It's disturbing and needy and never happens in situation comedies or movies that end with big kisses.
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Smiling is confusing, she thought. This is why I don’t do it.
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Drinking tequila is more about the journey than the destination
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People tend to pair off that way, Cath thought, in matched sets.
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Until this moment, she’d kept Park in a place in her head that she thought Richie couldn't get to. Completely separate from this house and everything that happened here. (It was a pretty awesome place. Like the only part of her head fit for praying.)
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It's our last chance. No. No, I can't... I, no, I need to believe that it isn't our last chance... Eleanor? Can you hear me? I need you to believe it, too.
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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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