Quotes by Rachel Cohn

I was coming down off the last painkiller left in my dresser drawer after Autumn tossed my stash. In that moment I was so groggy and happy I would have accepted a date with Oscar the Grouch - and planned to do some serious feeling up on the green furry beast too. Yeah, stooping to pharmaceutical-inspired sex fantasies about garbage can Sesame Street characters - that had to be the best Just Say No drug lecture a girl in a leg cast could ever receive to make her go cold turkey off the meds.

Beauty’s not only skin deep. Just because a person is beautifuldoesn’t mean there’s no soul beneath. Doesn’t meanthat person hasn’t suffered like everyone else, doesn’t meanthey don’t hope to still be a good human being in an awfulworld. (Gabriel)

I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have a feeling that they can’t hide.

The mosh pit will reveal all the answers. The mosh pit never lies.-Norah, Nick & Norahs Infinite Playlist

[S]he leans into this guy and rocks her head like I’m making this music for her, when if I could, I would take it all away and give her as much silence as she’s given me pain.

...The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. Theres no getting over that.

The best is when we all go at once, like an army of interrelated popcorn zombies who laugh the same laughs and gasp the same gasps and aren’t so germ-phobic with each other that we won’t share a ginormous Coke with one straw. Family is useful like that.

I dont see why ogling same-sex kissing should be the exclusive domain of frat boys whacking off to lesbian action, thats so sexist. Feminism should be all inclusive- it should be about sexual liberation, equal pay for equal work, and the fundamental girl right of boy2boy appreciation.

Prayer or not, I want to believe that, despite all evidence to the contrary, it is possible for anyone to find that one special person. That person to spend Christmas with or grow old with or just take a nice silly walk in Central Park with.

But isnt this a dance? Isnt all of this a dance? Isnt that what we do with words? Isnt that what we do when we talk, when we spar, when we make plans or leave them to chance? Some of its choreographed. Some of the steps have been done for ages. And the rest--the rest is spontaneous. The rest has to be decided on the floor, in the moment, before the music ends.

I wanted to talk to someone. But who? It’s moments like this, when you need someone the most, that your world seems smallest.

Somewhere between a friend and acquaintance—a frequaintance, as it were.

We always see the worst in our selves. Our most volnerable selves. We need someone to get close enough to tell us that were wrong. Someone we trust.

I mean, like most guys, you carry around this girl in your head, who is exactly who you want her to be. The person you think you will love the most. And every girl you are with gets measured against this girl in your head.

Nick stands up and offers his hand to me. I have no idea what he wants, but what the hell, I take his hand anyway, and he pulls me up on my feet then presses against me for a slow dance and its like were in a dream where hes Christopher Plummer and Im Julie Andrews and were dancing on the marble floor of an Austrian terrace garden. Somehow my head presses Nicks t-shirt and in this moment I am forgetting about time and Tal because maybe my life isnt over. Maybe its only beginning.

I am bigger than the box Im in.

Why do adults think every girl who isn’t some overachieving nitwit needs to be reassured about her intelligence? Folks, my self-esteem is just fine, thanks. I may not be school smart, and I may do extremely stupid things sometimes, but I know I’m smart. And I’d give me some serious Vegas odds to kick the ass of Sarah Scholar at life-skills moral combat any day.

She murmured, in that particular Nancy way of hers that grates most when my inner bitch is aching to be let loose, Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.My eyes popped open to see her lemon face standing over me.SOMEONE, I hissed, HASNT EVEN WOKEN UP YET. GOD, WHAT IS YOUR ANEURYSM? CANT YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?

These humans—they are cruel monsters. Liars. Deceitful. For the first time, I want to hurt them the way they hurt me. This is so unfair. My body feels numb, my energy spent, my mind deceived and angry.

When the time is right, when these feelings of rage and unfairness once again overcome me, I will not faint. I will fight.