This was what I liked most about my friends: just sitting around & telling stories.
If people were like rain, I was like drizzle and she was a hurricane.
Sheâ€™s the kind of person who either dies tragically at twenty-seven, like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, or else grows up to win, like, the first-ever Nobel Prize for Awesome.
Your responsibility is not to the people you're making the gift for, but the gift itself.
In those fifty, the Old Man made me take religion seriously. I'd never been religious, but he told us that religion is important whether or not we believed in one, the same way that historical events are important whether or not you personally lived through them.
Caroline was always moody and miserable, but I liked it. I liked feeling as if she had chosen me as the only person in the world not to hate, and so we spent all this time together just ragging on everyone, you know?
But we can't know better until knowing better is useless.
All hurt is brain hurt.
What matters to you defines your mattering.
You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you cannot even imagine yet.
Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.
I'm a big believer in pairing classics with contemporary literature, so students have the opportunity to see that literature is not a cold, dead thing that happened once but instead a vibrant mode of storytelling that's been with us a long time - and will be with us, I hope, for a long time to come.
I think forever is an incorrect concept," I answered. He smirked. "You're an incorrect concept." "I know. That's why I'm being taken out of the rotation".
I pointed at the little kids goading each other to jump from rib cage to shoulder and Gus answered just loud enough for me to hear over the din, 'Last time, I imagined myself as the kid. This time, the skeleton.
And I agreed, but still, she owed us an explanation. If she was up there, down there, out there, somewhere, maybe she would laugh.
Stop thinking about the landing, because it's all about falling.
Even then, it hurt. The pain was always there, pulling me inside of myself, demanding to be felt. It always felt like I was waking up from the pain when something in the world outside of me suddenly required my comment or attention.
It must be some book," she said as she knelt down next to the bed..."Did that boy give it to you?" She asked out of nowhere. "By 'it' do you mean herpes?" "You are too much," Mom said, "The book, Hazel. I mean the book.
I know that books seem like the ultimate thing that's made by one person, but that's not true. Every reading of a book is a collaboration between the reader and the writer who are making the story up together.
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. Thatâ€™s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
As I followed Margo's directions through the maze of one-way streets, we saw a few people sleeping on the sidewalk or sitting on benches, but nobody was moving. Margo rolled down the window, and I felt the thick air blow across my face, warmer than night ought to be. I glanced over and saw strands o
In the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you're trying to listen to.
Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war
What is an "instant" death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice ta
I think if you went back to the eighteenth century and you asked a fifteen year old boy, 'Would you like to marry a woman who has had plastic bags needlessly inserted into her breasts?', that fifteen year old boy would probably be like, 'what's plastic?'.
You can't just make me different and then leave. You can't. You can't change me and make my whole life centered around you, then leave.
Was it animal pee or human pee? Someone asked. How would I know? What, am I an expert in the study of pee?
I can't be you. You can't be me. You can imagine another wellâ€”but never quite perfectly, you know?
memories fall apart too.
We are engaged here in the most important pusuit in history. The search for meaning. What is What is the nature of being a person? What is the best way to go about being a person?How did we come to be, and wha will become of us when we are no longer? In short: What are the rules this game, and how m