What can we do?" Mom asked again. I shrugged. But she kept asking, as if there were something she could do, until I just kind of crawled across the couch into her lap and my dad came over and held my legs really tight and I wrapped my arms all the wa...
Hey,' he said, touching my waist. 'Hey. It's okay.' I nodded and wiped my face with the back of my hand. 'He sucks.' I nodded again. 'I'll write you an epilogue,' Gus said. That made me cry harder. 'I will,' he said. 'I will. Better than any sh*t tha...
NOTHING HAS EVER LOOKED LIKE THAT EVER IN ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY,” he said. His enthusiasm was adorable. I couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Just so you know, I’m right here,” Mom said. “Sitting next to you. Your mothe...
He’s not that smart.” “She’s right,” Augustus says. “It’s just that most really good-looking people are stupid, so I exceed expectations.” “Right, it’s primarily his hotness.” “It can be sort of blinding,” he said. “It act...
So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Sure, anyone can name fourteen dead people. But we're disorganized mourners, so a lot of people end up remembering Shakespeare, and no one ends up remembering the person he wrote Sonnet Fifty-five about.
(Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. When we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.) You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.
We care about the dead. We try with our lives to honor theirs. That’s how we make our lives meaningful, and how we make their lives meaningful, too.
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 went on spouting bullshit Encouragements as Gus's parents, arm in arm, hugged each other and nodded at every word. Funerals, I had decided, are for the living.
And then I crawled into his unmade bed, wrapping myself in his comforter like a cocoon, surrounding myself with his smell. I took out my cannula so I could smell better, breathing him and out, the scent fading even as I lay there, my chest burning un...
You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.
I will not tell you our love story, because-like all real love stories-it will die with us,as it should.
Like they just wanted to enjoy The Gus Waters Show while it was still in town.
Losing you're co-remember meant losing the memory itself.
The oblivion 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 ...
She said she couldn't handle it,’ he told me. ‘I’m about to lose my eyesight and she can’t handle it.’ I was thinking about the word handle, and all the unholdable things that get handled. . . . 'Well, to be fair,' I said, 'I mean, she prob...
But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying. - Hazel Grace Lancaster
