Rainbow Rowell Quotations

I like science fiction, I like fantasy, I like time travel, so I had this idea: What if you had a phone that could call into the past?

I'm not complaining about my cell phone - all my friends are in there, and all my favorite songs and all my favorite Benedict Cumberbatch GIFs; I don't want to give it up. But cell phones are the worst for talking on the phone.

When I watch a romantic comedy, I feel like they're selling something that doesn't exist. Two beautiful, but extremely unpleasant, people are terrible to each other for an hour, accidentally kiss, then decide to like each other during an extremely vague montage. That isn't how people fall in love.

A landline is an anchor - busy signals, long distance bills, missed connections and all.

I feel like some sort of fiction-writing hobo, jumping trains and always hoping I'll find a good place to start a fire in the next town. And I keep having these panicky episodes where I corner my husband and rant at him: 'I don't have anywhere to write! I can't write! I don't have a place to write!'

I find love stories satisfying when you can see the work - when you can really watch people find each other and fall in love, a little bit at a time. I like slow burns. Falling in love is so good; why would you want to rush it?

As I moved to less and less diverse places in my life, I realized that white people dont talk about race amongst themselves!

Attraction is what happens between you. It's not universal. And it's not conventional. And thank God for that.

It's very difficult, I think, especially on two cellphones, to have a romantic conversation.

With 'Attachments,' my goal was to write a really good romantic comedy. I wanted the reader to be smiling throughout.

When you actually fall in love, no one sees that other person the way that you do.

In my mind, every single female character I've written is plus-size.

I was in my mid 20s when email finally took off. Until then, the phone was my primary way of connecting with the people in my life.

I wrote all four of my books at Starbucks.

Our cellphones can do everything, but they're bad at letting us talk to each other.

Having a conversation on a landline is more intimate than talking to someone in person. Your voices are so clear and close - you're in each other's heads.

I definitely had a hard time leaving for college because I'm not much of a risk-taker.

When 'Attachments' came out and people liked it, I'd have a warm feeling of having made a connection.

I tend to write about my anxieties - it's what I'm afraid will happen. And I write a story working it out.

With fandom, people are sensitive, and sometimes defensive, about their experiences.

I'd never written a novel before, and I wrote a novel, and that turned out OK.

In 'Attachments,' which is told from a male point of view, people asked me if a man would really think that much about whether a woman likes him. But I have a husband and three brothers, and they're all like that.

When you're a woman, you have to work harder to get a laugh... I follow so many hilarious women on Twitter. It's a daily reminder that women get to be funny.

I can't seem to help writing love stories. I definitely crave romance. When I was young, I craved romance in books, but I didn't want to read just romance - love plays such a big part in our lives, it shouldn't be cut out and restricted to its own fiction.

I enjoy stories about thin women - I read them frequently. I enjoy them; I root for those characters, but I always feel like there are enough of them out there and there are enough of them in the spotlight.

I think, when I was younger, I believed in - and yearned for - conventional beauty. I thought there was a spectrum from ugly to beautiful, and that you could objectively plot everyone you saw along it.

My favorite Starbucks is nice - Omaha Starbucks stores tend to be friendlier than big-city ones, and the baristas are especially lovely at mine - but it's still a Starbucks.

You’ve read the books?” “I’ve seen the movies.” Cath rolled her eyes so hard, it hurt. (Actually.) (Maybe because she was still on the edge of tears. On the edge, period.) “So you haven’t read the books.” “I’m not really a book person.” “That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said to me

Sometimes writing is running downhill, your fingers jerking behind you on the keyboard the way your legs do when they can’t quite keep up with gravity.

If you were an alien who came to our bookstores - or browsed our teen magazines - you'd think that only Earth girls who look like Mila Kunis ever got any action.

This is why I can't be with Levi. Because I'm the kind of girl who fantasizes about being trapped in a library overnight-and Levi can't even read.

You don't know when you're twenty-three. You don't know what it really means to crawl into someone else's life and stay there. You can't see all the ways you're going to get tangled, how you're going to bond skin to skin. How the idea of separating will feel in five years, in ten - in fifteen. When Georgie thought about divorce now, she imagined lying side by side with Neal on two operating tables while a team of doctors tried to unthread their vascular systems. She didn't know at twenty-three.

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?

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.

Oh, I love period dramas, especially period dramas starring Colin Firth. I'm like Bridget Jones if she were actually fat." "Oh... Colin Firth. He should only do period dramas. And period dramas should only star Colin Firth. (One-star upgrade for Colin Firth. Two stars for Colin Firth in a waistcoat.) "Keep typing his name, even his name is handsome.

I don't know if I even believe in that anymore. The right guy. The perfect guy. The one. I've lost faith in "the". How do you feel about "a" and "an"? Indifferent. So you're considering a life without articles?

Why are tall guys always attracted to short women? Not just moderately short women, either... Tiny women. Polly Pockets. The tallest guys always-always-always go for the shortest girls. Always. It's like they're so infatuated with their own height that they want to be with someone who makes them feel even taller. Someone they can tower over. A little doll that will make them feel even bigger and stronger.

He pulled away to say he's sorry, and she shook her head no, because even though she really want him to be sorry, she wanted to kiss him more.

Maybe he was Filipino. Was that in Asia? Probably. Asia's out-of-control huge.

He'd stopped trying to bring her back. She only came back when she felt like it anyway, in dreams and lies and broken-down deja-vu.

What's that thing you wrote about Simon once, that his eyes followed Baz 'like he was the brightest thing in the room, like he cast everything else into shadow'? That's you. You can't look away from him.

Your trash can is full of energy bar wrappers." "You were looking through my trash?

Eggnog reminds me of mucus." "Me, too. But in a good way.

There’s no such thing as handsome princes, she told herself. There’s no such thing as happily ever after.

He looked exactly like a rat. Like the human being version of a rat. Like the villain in a Don Bluth movie.

Love. Purpose. Those are things that you can't plan for. Those are things that just happen.

The next night, Lincoln parked his Corolla right next to The Courier's front door. I'm here, he thought. Find me. Follow me. Make this inevitable.

But I saw this video, not even the whole thing, and I just knew that it was going to be my favorite song for...for the rest of my life. And it still is. It's still my favorite song... Lincoln, I said you were cute because I didn't know how to say--because I didn't think I was allowed to say--anything else. But every time I saw you, I felt like I did the first time I heard that song.

She bent her neck back and kissed him like she never had before. Like she wasn't scared of doing it wrong.

He already knows what I look like," Cath said. "There's no point in being tricky about it now." "How is doing your hair--and maybe putting on some lip gloss--being tricky?" "It's like I'm trying to distract him with something shiny.

It was the nicest thing she could imagine. It made her want to have his babies and give him both of her kidneys.

Things she knew now, that she hadn't known two hours ago: Park was covered with skin. Everywhere.

<> It's nice of you to say I'm your best friend. <> You are my best friend, dummy. <> Really? You are my best friend. But I always assumed that somebody else was your best friend, and I was totally okay with that. You don't have to say that I'm your best friend just to make me feel good. <> You're so lame. <> That's why I figured somebody else was your best friend.

I might not use capital letters. But I would definitely use an apostrophe…and probably a period. I’m a huge fan of punctuation.

We're going to listen music in my room.' 'Fine,' his dad said from underneath the sink. 'Just don't get anybody pregnant.

Ophelia was bonkers, right? And Juliet was what, a sixth-grader?

You think I'm cute?" He said thinkly, pulling on her hand. She was glad he couldn't see her face. "I think you're..." Beautiful. Breathtaking. Like the person in a Greek myth who makes one of the gods stop caring about being a god.

...and his eyes were so green they could turn carbon dioxide into oxygen.

The idea that you're hard to love is ludicrous.

I think I missed my window." "What window?" "My get-a-life window. I think I was supposed to figure all this stuff out somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-six, and now it's too late.

That girl--all of them--hated Eleanor before they'd even laid eyes on her. Like they'd been hired to kill her in a past life.

I look like a hobo?" "Worse," he said. "Like a sad hobo clown." "And you like it?" "I love it." As soon as he said it, she broke into a smile. And when Eleanor smiled, something broke inside of him. Something always did.

Dumb. He should have gotten the pen. Jewelry was so public... and personal, which was why he'd bought it. He couldn't buy Eleanor a pen. Or a bookmark. He didn't have bookmarklike feelings for her.

Eleanor's hair caught fire at dawn. Her eyes were dark and shining, and his arms were sure of her. The first time he touched her hand, he'd known.

I'm sorry about yesterday," she said. He hung on to his straps and shrugged. "Yesterday happens.

There was something about the music on that tape. It felt different. Like, it set her lungs and her stomach on edge. There was something exciting about it, and something nervous. It made Eleanor feel like everything, like the world, wasn't what she'd thought it was. And that was a good thing. That was the greatest thing.

His parents never talked about how they met, but when Park was younger, he used to try to imagine it. He loved how much they loved each other. It was the thing he thought about when he woke up scared in the middle of the night. Not that they loved him--they were his parents, they had to love him. That they loved each other. They didn't have to do that.

There was just no fear in her.

You’re never going to find a guy who’s exactly like you—first of all, because that guy never leaves his dorm room.…

For the first time in weeks, Park didn't have that anxious feeling in his stomach on the way home from school, like he had to soak up enough Eleanor to keep him until the next day.

Cath ate the banana and held on to his gaze. “I’d give you the moon right now,” she said. Levi’s eyes flashed happily, and he hitched up an eyebrow. “Yeah, but would you slay it for me?

Honey, I've watched a lot of 90210. The parents weren't even on the show once Brandon and Brenda went to college. This is your time - you're supposed to going to frat parties and getting back together with Dylan." "Why does everybody want me to go to frat parties?" "Who wants you to go to frat parties? I was just kidding. Don't hang out with frat guys, Cath, they're terrible. All they do is get drunk and watch 90210.

I look like this because I'm alive," Reagan said. "Because I've had experiences. Do you understand?

Don't make me angry-kiss you.

Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy.

Cath wished she didn't use the word "just" so much. It was her passive-aggressive tell, like someone who twitched when they were lying.

Knowing they were in the same city again made the missing him flare up inside her. In her stomach. Why were people always going on and on about the heart? Almost everything Levi happened in Cath’s stomach.

Smiling is confusing, she thought. This is why I don’t do it.

Reagan was sitting up at Cath's desk when Cath woke up. "Are you awake?" "Have you been watching me sleep?" "Yes, Bella. Are you awake?" "No.

I don’t want to kiss a stranger,” Cath would answer. “I’m not interested in lips out of context.

You shouldn't reward me for endangering your life, you know. Think of the precedent you're setting.

You can park your snark at the gate, Omaha.

Nothing before you counts," he said. "And I can't even imagine an after." She shook her head. "Don't." "What?" "Don't talk about after." "I just meant that... I want to be the last person who ever kisses you, too.... That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I'm trying to say is, you're it. This is it for me.

So why aren’t you living with your sister?” “She wanted to meet new people,” Cath said. “You make it sound like she broke up with you.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,' he said.

Drinking tequila is more about the journey than the destination

Are you on drugs?” “No.” “Maybe you should be.…

Have you ever heard sculptors say that they don’t actually sculpt an object; they sculpt away everything that isn’t the object?

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.

He never hurries. He never shows his cards. He always hangs up first....Like when we first started talking on the phone, he would always be the one who got off first. When we kissed, he always pulled away first. He always kept me just on the edge of crazy. Feeling like I wanted him too much, which just made me want him more....[It was] excruciating and wonderful. It feels good to want something that bad. I thought about him the way you think about dinner when you haven't eaten for a day and a half. Like you'd sell your soul for it.

There are moments when you can't believe something wonderful is happening. And there are moments when your entire consciousness is filled with knowing absolutely that something wonderful is happening.

Jennifer to Beth: Ech. I don't like Tom Cruise. Beth to Jennifer: Me neither. But I usually like Tom Cruise movies. Jennifer to Beth: Me too... Huh, maybe I do like Tom Cruise. But I hate feeling pressured to find him attractive. I don't. Beth to Jennifer: Nobody does. It's a lie perpetuated by the American media. Tom Cruise and Julia Roberts. Jennifer to Beth: Men don't like Julia Roberts? Beth to Jennifer: Nope. Her teeth scare them. Jennifer to Beth: Good to know.

The strange thing about seeing someone for first time in nine years is the way they look totally different, just for a second, a split second, and then they look at you the way they always have, as if no time has passed between you.

Things get better--hurt less--over time. If you let them.

I just had this feeling about you," she said. "Is that foolish?" "I hope not.

high school guys only appear hot to high school girls. its something to do with the fluorescent lighting in the classrooms, i think. They're actually really skinny and spotty, and they have giant feet

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

You can be Han Solo," he said, kissing her throat. "And I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.

All through first and second and third hour, Eleanor rubbed her palm. Nothing happened. How could it be possible that there were that many never ending all in one place? And were they always there, or did they just flip on wherever they felt like it? Because, if they were always there, how did she manage to turn doorknobs without fainting? Maybe this was why so many people said it felt better to drive a stick shift.

It's so easy for someone else to say, 'Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right.' Why not say it? It doesn't cost anything. It doesn't mean anything. No one will hold you to it if you're wrong.