You never know. It's just. It's like. POOF. And you're gone.
What did Dom Perignon say to fellow monks after he invented champagne? ... Come quickly, I am tasting the stars.
We're invisible. I've never been here with someone else. It's different being invisible with someone.
We were very different, and we disagreed about a lot of things, but he was always so interesting, you know?
We were kissing.I thought: This is good.I thought: I am not bad at this kissing. Not bad at all.I thought: I am clearly the greatest kisser in the history of the universe.Suddenly she laughed and pull...
We have to forgive to survive the labyrinth.
We fatties have a bond, dude. It's like a secret society. We got all kinds of shit you don't know about. Handshakes, special fat people dances-we got these secret fugging lairs in the center of the ea...
We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors . . . But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters.
We always say we are beneath the stars. We aren't, of course—there is no up or down, and anyway the stars surround us. But we say we are beneath them, which is nice. So often English glorifies the hum...
There was quite a lot of competitiveness about it, with everybody wanting to beat not only cancer itself, but also the other people in the room. Like, I realize that this is irrational, but when they...
The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.
The marks humans leave are too often scars .
That’s the thing about pain, Augustus said, and then glanced back at me. It demands to be felt.
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
That smile could end wars and cure cancer.
That is the fear: I have lost something important, and I cannot find it, and I need it. It is fear like if someone lost his glasses and went to the glasses store and they told him that the world had r...
Television is a passivity.
Take a picture of this so Isaac can see it when they invent robot eyes.
Sunlight feels warm and rough against your skin like a kiss on the cheek from your dad.
Someday no one will remember that she ever existed, I wrote in my notebook, and then, or that I did. Because memories fall apart, too. And then you're left with nothing, left not even with a ghost but...