The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.

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.

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 know that people change. I thought... I thought we're going to change together. I thought that's what it meant to be in love.

Why are they doing that?” his mother said, frowning at her grandsons. The boys were sorting the casserole into piles on their plates. “Doing what?” Eve asked. “Why aren’t they eating their food?” “They don’t like it when things touch,” Eve said. “What things?” his mother asked. “Their food. They don’t like it when different foods touch or mix together.” “How do you serve dinner, in ice cube trays?

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

Everybody drinks," she said calmly. The Only Rational One. "Your sister doesn't." When rolled her eyes. "Forgive me, but I'm not going to spend my college years sitting soberly in my dorm room, writing about gay magicians." "Objection," Cath said, reaching for a burrito.