In some cases, she was actively trying not to make friends, though she usually stopped short of being rude. (Uptight, tense, and mildly misanthropic? Yes. Rude? No.)

Take your vitamins. Don't drink vodka. Get used to empire waistlines.

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.

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

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

The professor leaned forward. “But there’s nothing more profound than creating something out of nothing.” Her lovely face turned fierce. “Think about it Cath. That’s what makes a god—or a mother. There’s nothing more intoxicating than creating something from nothing. Creating something from yourself.

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