Quotes by John Green

I dont care if the New York Times writes an obituary for me. I just want you to write one. ... You say youre not special because the world doesnt know about you, but thats an insult to me. I know about you.

You cant just make me different and then leave

When she fucked up all those years ago, just a little girl terrified into paralysis, she fell onto the enigma of herself.

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someones about to die.

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.

She cannot possibly be dead, people do not just die

Oh God, Alaska, I love you. I love you, and the Colonel whispered, Im so sorry, Pudge. I know you did, and I said, No. Not past tense. She wasnt even a person anymore, just flesh rotting, but I loved her present tense.

The times that were most fun seemed always to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when she was with us that we realized how utterly gone she was.

Like many people, I feel like celebrating. Remember this feeling. It is human, and can help us understand when others express bloodlust.

I looked over at Augustus Waters, who looked back at me. You could almost see through his eyes they were so blue. There will come a time, I said, when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed for that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you.

Like they just wanted to enjoy The Gus Waters Show while it was still in town.

Losing youre co-remember meant losing the memory itself.

Hed fought hard, Lida told me, as if there was another way to fight.

He was a dying man looking down on the surgeons trying to save him.

If people were rain, Id be a drizzle and shed be a hurricane.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive

Poetry is just so emo. he said. Oh, the pain. The pain. It always rains. In my soul.

So dawn goes down today... Nothing gold can stay.-- Robert Frost

Writing is something you do alone. Its a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but dont want to make eye contact while doing it., Nerdfighteria Wiki, January 17, 2012]