Rainbow Rowell

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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

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Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive

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What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible

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Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy,

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Every woman wants a man who'll fall in love with her soul as well as her body