The Fault in Our Stars (John Green)

Photo grabbed from: screen-wallpapers.com

                                                                                                                   Photo grabbed from: screen-wallpapers.com

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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