There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless.
The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.
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John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via 4mbivalent)
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As I knelt, I realized they’d closed his eyes-of course they had-and that I would never again see his blue eyes. ‘I love you present tense,’ I whispered, and then put my hand on the middle of his chest and said, ‘It’s okay, Gus. It’s okay. It is. It’s okay, you hear me?’ I had-and have-absolutely no confidence that he could hear me. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Okay.’
Books are the ultimate Dumpees: put them down and they’ll wait for you forever; pay attention to them and they always love you back.
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John Green, An Abundance of Katherines (via prettybooks)
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She had the kind of fingers you want to interlace with your own.
Margo always loved mysteries. And in everything that came afterward, I could never stop thinking that maybe she loved mysteries so much that she became one.
Even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever.
If you don’t live a life in service of a greater good, you’ve gotta at least die a death in service of greater good, you know? And I fear that I won’t get a life or a death that means anything.
I leave, and the leaving is so exhilarating I know I can never go back. But then what? Do I just keep leaving places, and leaving them, and leaving them, tramping a perpetual journey?
Depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.
The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them, even though they contain most of our lives.
Maybe it’s more like you said before, all of us being cracked open. Like, each of [us] starts out as a watertight vessel. And these things happen — these people leave us, or don’t love us, or don’t get us, or we don’t get them, and we lose and fail and hurt one another. And the vessel starts to crack open in places. And I mean, yeah, once the vessel cracks open, the end becomes inevitable. But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart. And it’s only in that time that we can see one another, because we see out of ourselves through our cracks and into others through theirs. When did we see each other face-to-face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours. Before that, we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out.
Sure, I fear oblivion. But, I mean, not to sound like my parents, but I believe humans have souls, and I believe in the conservation of souls. The oblivion I fear is something else, fear that I won’t be able to give anything in exchange for my life. If you don’t live a life in service of a greater good, you’ve gotta at least die a death in service of a greater good, you know? And I fear that I won’t get either a life or a death that means anything.
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Augustus, “The Fault in Our Stars” (John Green)
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The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside them, even though they contain most of our lives i wonder if that was sort of the part of architecture.
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John Green(The Fault In Our Stars)
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The marks humans leave are too often scars.
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John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via 4mbivalent)
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