the-fault-in-our-stars

I really thought she was going to die before I could tell her that I was going to die, too.

You gave me a forever within the numbered days and I'm grateful.

the world wasn't made for us, we were made for the world

I'm feeling grand. I'm on a rollercoaster only going up.

It__ hard as hell to hold on to your dignity when the risen sun is too bright in your losing eyes

It´s a metaphor: you see, you put the killing thing right between your teeth,you just don't give it the power to do it's killing.

And yet still I worried. I like being a person. I wanted to keep at it. Worry is yet another side effect of dying.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/ But in ourselves.

The problem, of course, is that there's no way of knowing that your last good day is your Last Good Day. At the time, it's just another good day.

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.

What I love about the sculpture is that it makes the bones that we are always walking and playing on manifest, like in a world that so often denies the reality of death and the reality that we are surrounded by and outnumbered by the dead. Here, is a very playful way of acknowledging that and acknowledging that and that always, whenever we play, whenever we live, we are living in both literal and metaphorical ways on the memory and bones of the dead.

I'm a grenade, I just want to stay away from people and read books, and think...

Hazel has to realize that her mom was wrong when she said, __ won__ be a mother anymore._ The truth is, after Hazel dies (assuming she dies), her mom will still be her mom, just as my grandmother is still my grandmother even though she has died. As long as either person is still alive, that relationship survives. (It changes, but it survives.)

You used," he said, and then took a sharp breath, "to call me Augustus.

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

I felt bashful, like I had when I'd first told him of An Imperial Affliction. "Um, okay. Okay. 'Let us go, trough certain half-deserted streets,/ The muttering retreats/ Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels/ and sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:/ Streets that follow like a tedious argument/ Of insidious intent/ To lead you to an overwhelming question../Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"/ Let us go and make our visit" "I'm in love with you," he said quietly. "Augustus," I said. "I am, " he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you." "Augustus," I said again, not knowing what else to say. It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this wierdly painful joy, but I couldn't say it back. I couldn't say it back. I just looked at him and let him look at me until he nodded, lips pursed, and turned away, placing the side of his head against the window.

It's hard as hell to hold onto your dignity when the risen sun is too bright in your losing eyes, and that's what I was thinking about as we hunted for bad guys through the ruins of a city that didn't exist.

Her primary reason for living and my primary reason for living were awfully entangled.