John Green Quotes
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…it argues that true love will triumph in the end (which may or may not be true) but if it’s a lie, it’s the most beautiful lie we have!
...stories don’t just make us matter to each other—maybe they’re also theonly way to the infinite mattering he’d been after for so long.
I am trying to find ways to live honestly and hopefully in the world without ignoring or denying the universe´s cold and painful indifference to us.
People say friends don't destroy each otherWhat do they know about friends?
I'll fight it. I'll fight it for you. Don't you worry about me, Hazel Grace. I'm okay. I'll find a way to hang around and annoy you for a long time.
The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.
There is no shortage of fault to be found amidst our stars.
A poem can't do its work if you only read snippets of it.
The thing about a spiral is, if you follow it inward, it never actually ends. It just keeps tightening, infinitely.
We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors, is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters.
The only thing worse than having a party that no one attends is having a party attended only by two vastly, deeply uninteresting people.
Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. When we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.
He'd fought hard, Lida told me, as if there was another way to fight.
I hadn’t been in proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed.
That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfeast cereals based on color instead of taste.
There is not shortage of fault to be found amidst our stars.
Apparently, the world is not a wish-granting factory.
you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose.
As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.
Once you think a thought, it is extremely difficult to unthink it. And I had thought the thought.
Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.
When I was little, my dad used to tell me, "Will, you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose.
... if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.
Nuts, arms, stomachs -- they never hurt. All hurt is brain hurt.
You used, " he said, and then took a sharp breath, "to call me Augustus.
You know your problem, Quentin? You keep expecting people not to be themselves.
The whole thing was the precise opposite of what I figured it would be: slow and patient and quiet and neither particularly painful nor particularly ecstatic
How will we ever get out of the labyrinth of suffering ?
He really was beautiful. I know boys aren't supposed to be. But he was.
I figured something out, " he said aloud. "The future is unpredictable."Hassan said, "Sometimes the kafir likes to say massively obvious things in a really profound voice.
You'll... you'll... live your best life today.
I wondered if hurdlers ever thought, you know, "This would go faster if we just got rid of the hurdles.
I just want to do something that matters. Or be something that matters. I just want to matter.
And then something invisible snapped insider her, and that which had come together commenced to fall apart.
I don't think you're dying, " I said. "I think you've just got a touch of cancer.He smiled. Gallows humor.
How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast.
You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.
It became a weekend of reading, of trying to see her in the fragments of the poem she'd left for me.
How wil we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?
...there are books...which you can't tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.
Such is life. We grow up. Planets like Tiny get new moons. Moons like me get new planets.
He was a dying man looking down on the surgeons trying to save him.
This is all so CHILDISH PATHETIC. YOU'RE EMBARASSING. GET OVER IT GET OVER IT GET OVER IT. But he did not quite know what "it" was.
I hate that. I hate kids like that so fugging much.
I knew that I would know more dead people. The bodies pile up. Could there be a space in my memory for each of them, or would I forget a little of Alaska every day for the rest of my life?
I thought: This is not good. I though: I am not bad at kissing. Not at bad at all. I thought: I am clearly the greatest kisser in the history of the universe.
But alas, the world is not a wish-granting factory.
The only sentence that begins with 'I' that's true of me is I'm full of shit.
Big, ugly homes for big, ugly people, ' I told Margo as we pulled into Casavilla.'No shit. If I ever end up being the kind of person who has one kid and seven bedrooms, do me a favor and shoot me.
He was gone and did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth.