Quotes from John Green

And then the line was quite but not dead. I almost felt like he was there in my room with me, but in a way it was better, like I was not in my room and he was not in his, but instead we were together in some invisible and tenuous third space that could only be visited on the phone.

I've gotten really hot since you went blind.

I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.

I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.

There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.

You could hear the wind in the leaves, and on that wind traveled the screams of the kids on the playground in the distance, little kids figuring out how to be alive, how to navigate a world that wasn't made for them by navigating a playground that was.

I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things.

And as paralyzing and upsetting as all the never agains were, the final leaving felt perfect. Pure. The most distilled possible form of liberation. Everything that mattered except one lousy picture was in the trash, but it felt so great. I started jogging, wanting to put even more distance between myself and school. It is so hard to leave---until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.

But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating so I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.

Lacey shrugged bashfully. "Do you think I'm superficial?" "Well, yeah." I thought of myself standing outside Becca's bedroom, hoping she'd take off her shirt. "But so am I," I added. "So is everyone."

Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will... but then again, if you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all. Imagining isn't perfect. You can't get all the way inside someone else... But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in. It is the machine tht kills the fascists.

She'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.

Ther are so many people. It is easy to forget how full th world is of people, full to bursting, and each of them imaginable and consistantly misimagined.

This is what I liked most about my friends: just sitting around and telling stories. Window stories and mirror stories.

I like to build places online where readers can have productive conversations about books.

I like to know the places I write about. I feel like it helps me ground the novel. My novels are 'realistic novels,' but they can also be fantastical, so it's nice to have a setting that grounds them a little bit.

You can't not like 'The Great Gatsby.' It's got the best sentences in, like, ever.

I always wondered if there was a purpose to the universe, if there was a plan, if there was some sort of organizing factor, hopefully that I played a role in.

I hated hurting him. Most of the time, I could forget about it, but the inexorable truth is this: They might be glad to have me around, but I was the alpha and the omega of my parents' suffering.

I realized during my time as a chaplain that I didn't want to be a minister.

If I had a nervous breakdown every time something awful happened in the world, I'd be crazier than a shithouse rat.

See, popularity is complicated. You have to spend a lot of time thinking about liking; you have to really like being liked, and also sort like being disliked.

There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it.

There will come a time, when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything.