I know it’s technically goodwill to all men, but in my mind, I drop the men because that feels segregationist/elitist/sexist/generally bad is. Goodwill shouldn’t be just for men. It should also apply to women and children, and all animals, even the yucky ones like subway rats. I’d even extend the goodwill not just to living creatures but to the dearly departed, and if we include them, we might as well include the undead, those supposedly mythic beings like vampires, and if they’re in, then so are elves, fairies, and gnomes. Heck, since we’re already being so generous in our big group hug, why not also embrace those supposedly inanimate objects like dolls and Stu

— Rachel Cohn

I lost myself immediately in one of the books, only emerging when the phone rang.“Shell?” my father intoned. As if someone else with my voice might be answering the phone at my mother’s apartment.“Yes, Father?”“Lee and I would like to wish you a merry Christmas.”“Thank you, Father. And to you, as well.”[awkward pause][even more awkward pause]“I hope your mother isn’t giving you any trouble.” Oh, Father, I love it when you play this game.“She told me if I clean all the ashes out of the grate, then I’ll be able to help my sisters get ready for the ball.”“It’s Christmas, Shell. Can’t you give that attitude a rest?”“Merry Christmas, Dad. And thanks for the presents.”“What presents?”“I’m sorry—those were all from Mom, weren’t they?”“Shell …”“I have to go. The gingerbread men are on

— Rachel Cohn

I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas: It brings people together while time stands still. Cozy couples lazily meandered the streets and children trudged sleds and chased snowballs. No one seemed to be in a rush to experience anything other than the glory of the day, with each other, whenever and however it happened.

— Rachel Cohn

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.

— Rachel Cohn

I'm liking that I can throw any kind of sentence at her without worrying it's too out there.

— Rachel Cohn

I’m looking for Fat Hoodie Prom Queen,” I declared. He did not respond.“It’s a book,” I said. “Not a person.” Nope. Nothing.“At the very least, can you tell me the author?” He looked at his computer, as if it had some way to speak to me without any typing on his part.“Are you wearing headphones that I can’t see?” I asked. He scratched at the inside of his elbow.“Do you know me?” I persisted. “Did I grind you to a pulp in kindergarten, and are you now getting sadistic pleasure from this petty revenge? Stephen Little, is that you? Is it? I was much younger then, and foolish to have nearly drowned you in that water fountain. In my defense, your prior destruction of my book report was a completely unwarranted act of aggression.” Finally, a response. The information desk clerk shook his shaggy head.“No?” I said.“I am not allowed to disclose the location of Fat Hoodie Prom Queen,” he explained. “Not to you. Not to anyone. And while I am not Stephen Little, you should be ashamed of what you did to him. Ashamed.

— Rachel Cohn

I'm mad at global warming for all the obvious reasons, but mostly I'm mad at it for ruining Christmas. This time of year is supposed to be about teeth-chattering, cold weather that necessitates coats, scarves, and mittens. Outside there should be see-your-breath air that offers the promise of sidewalks covered in snow, while inside, families drink hot chocolate by a roaring fire, huddled close together with their pets to keep warm.

— Rachel Cohn

It's bullshit to think of friendship and romance as being different. They're not. They're just variations of the same love. Variations of the same desire to be close.

— Rachel Cohn

It's hard to show you that I tried unless you end up succeeding.

— Rachel Cohn

It's not the loving that hurts this girl; it's the understanding of it for what it is, that it will never be returned in the same way, that threatens to destroy her. But to unload the words - "I love you" - on an innocent party who didn't ask for it, to reach across the dark space and touch him - it's like the world she knows could end if she dared speak these words, dared make such a move.

— Rachel Cohn