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
I could imagine it. I could remember it. But I couldn't see it again, and it occured to me that the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because there is always the thought that everything might be done better and again.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves.” Easy enough to say when you’re a Roman nobleman (or Shakespeare!), but there is no shortage of fault to be found amid our stars.
What's that?" "The laundry basket?" "No, next to it." "I don't see anything next to it." "It's my last shred of dignity. It's very small.
It's hard as hell to hold on to your dignity when the risen sun is too bright in your losing eyes, and that's what I was thinking about as we hunted for bad guys through the ruins of a city that didn't exist.
Und so fielen wir ineinander wie das entzweite Haus, das allein nicht stehen konnte, glorreiche, verdammte Liebende, die wir waren.
Sometimes I dream that I'm writing a memoir. A memoir would just be the thing to keep me in the hearts and memories of my adoring public.
I missed the future. Obviously I knew even before his recurrence that I'd never grow old with Augustus Waters. But thinking about Lidewij and her boyfriend, I felt robbed. I would probably never again see the ocean from thirty thousand feet above, so...
I liked being a person. I wanted to keep at it.
Grief does not change you. It reveals you.
How fun it would be to bounce on the back of Lidewij Vliegenthart’s bike down the brick streets, her curly red hair blowing into my face, the smell of the canals and cigarette smoke, all the people sitting outside the cafés drinking beer, saying t...
depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.
Worry is yet another side effect of dying.
Peter Van Houten was the only person I’d ever come across who seemed to (a) understand what it’s like to be dying, and (b) not have died.
[T]here is something to recommend a story that ends.
