Rainbow Rowell

I don’t want to think about an after.’

“Jungle fever is a thing,

Okay, I’m putting you before the comics, but make it quick.

There are people working up in the newsroom.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“No. But I read their e-mail.”

“It’s not right. How can people express themselves in a place like that? Knowing someone’s lurking in their thoughts.”

“I’m not in their thoughts. I’m in their computers, in the company’s computers.

Let hardship sharpen your blade, Simon.”

I’d trade my pixie for your vampire any day of the week. There’s no anathema to keep someone from being lethally irritating.”

falls asleep in the middle of telling me about a song she’s heard, a song she thinks will be a spell someday, though I can’t think of any use for “Call me maybe.”

“If it were me,” he rasps, “if I were you…”

He bites and bites.

“I’d drain you fuckin’ dry, Baz, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Plus, as soon as Baz is unhappy, that’s all I can think about. I’m crazy about all his little fretful faces, and I also want to be the thing that chases them away. I think I might be willing to make him miserable just for the thrill of making it better. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?

knocked around by life to varying degrees.