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Well, I'm writing everything that isn't my final project, so that when I actually sit down to write it, that's all that will be left in my mind.

Rainbow Rowell

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Rainbow Rowell
Age: 51
Born: 1973
Born: February 24
Author
Journalist
Novelist
Prosaist
Writer
NE
Mind
Projects
Actually
Write
Left
Wells
Everything
Final
Well
Finals
Writing
Project

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Everytime, he breaks your heart. And everytime, he expects me to pick up the pieces.
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My girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.
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She carried herself like she was exactly the size everyone else wanted to be.
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Things get better--hurt less--over time. If you let them.
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...and his eyes were so green they could turn carbon dioxide into oxygen.
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But the explanations fell apart in her hands. Everything true was too hard to write--he was too much to lose. Everything she felt for him was too hot to touch.
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I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death.
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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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Ah...' Park said, pained. 'What?' 'Those are alphabetized.' 'It's okay. I know the alphabet.' 'Right.' He looked embarrassed. 'Sorry.
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She was tired of being the one who cried.
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And because I’m so out of control, I can’t help myself. I’m not even mine anymore, I’m yours, and what if you decide that you don’t want me? How could you want me like I want you?
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Eggnog reminds me of mucus. Me, too. But in a good way.
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What did he have to mope about, really? What more did he want?...Love. Purpose. Those are the things that you can't plan for. Those are the things that just happen. And what if they don't happen? Do you spend your whole life pining for them? Waiting to be happy?
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Maybe Park had paralyzed her with his ninja magic, his Vulcan handhold, and now he was going to eat her. That would be awesome.
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Months are different in college, especially freshman year. Too much happens. Every freshman month equals six regular months—they're like dog months.
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He tried to remember how this happened – how she went from someone he’d never met to the only one who mattered.
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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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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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Underneath this veneer of slightly crazy and mildly socially retarded, I'm a complete disaster.
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She didn't have words for what Levi was. He was a cave painting. He was The Red Ballon. She lifted her heels and pulled him forward until his face was so close, she could look at only one of his eyes at a time. You're magic, she said.
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