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"To really be a nerd, she'd decided, you had to prefer fictional worlds to the real one."
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"That's where thinking started, where thinking stopped, where all her prayers so long ago had dried up. She no longer prayed, nor even dreamed of changing her father. Her dreams now played variations on the theme of escape. And they were nothing more than that -just dreams, just play. She'd been alone at the end of her dreams so many times before and never had God helped her escape her father, because God couldn't, because she would never escape her need to love him."

"I just want to get away from me."

"Outside, across the putrid moat and under the dark mute trees, I would often lie and dream for hours about what I read in the books; and would longingly picture myself amidst gay crowds in the sunny world beyond the endless forests."

"My reality isn't as gracious as it use to be, so I create things that are."

"My eyes, my brain seek out escape routes wherever I am sent."
Explore more quotes by Rainbow Rowell

"And there wasn't anything he wanted to do that he couldn't make time for. What did he have to mope about, really? What more did he want? Love, he could hear Eve saying. Purpose. 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?"

"Eleanor had never thought about killing herself " ever " but she thought a lot about stopping."

"How'd you know he was the one?""I didn't know. I don't think either of us knew."Heather rolled her eyes. "Neal knew - he proposed to you.""It's not like that," Georgie said. "You'll see. It's more like you meet someone, and you fall in love, and you hope that that person is the one - and then at some point, you have to put down your chips. You just have to make a commitment and hope that you're right."

"And what does it mean to take care of power? Do you use it? Conserve it? Keep it out of the wrong hands?"

"She kept forcing herself to remember the entire conversation, playing it back and playing it back, all the way through, forcing a finger down her memory's throat."

"Parfois, écrire se rapproche de la chute libre : vos doigts s'agitent sur le clavier comme vos jambes dans le vide."

"How many people make a career out of writing anyway?' Cath snapped. She felt like everything inside her was snapping. Her nerves. Her temper. Her esophagus. 'I'll write because I love it, the way other people knit or . . . or scrapbook. And I'll find some other way to make money."
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