The Fault in Our Stars (John Green)

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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.


The world is not a wish-granting factory.


You have a choice in this world, I believe, about how to tell sad stories, and we made the funny choice…


Even cancer isn’t a bad guy really: Cancer just wants to be alive.


My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.


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.


That’s the thing about pain…it demands to be felt.


Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.


Oh, I wouldn’t mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.


Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.


Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.


Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.


You are so busy being YOU that you have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are.


That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence.


I’m a grenade and at some point I’m going to blow up and I would like to minimize the casualties, okay?


Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.


It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.


Funerals, I had decided, are for the living.


Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.


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