We have this habit of romanticizing the lives of writers. I remember when I was a kid, I was like, 'I want to be Kurt Vonnegut.'
John GreenThe Colonel's hand was so little, and I grabbed it tight, his cold seeping into me and my warmth into him. 'I memorized the populations,' he said.
John GreenAugustus: โYou probably need some rest.โ Me: โIโm okay.โ Augustus: โOkay.โ (Pause.) โWhat are you thinking about?โ Me: โYou.โ Augustus: โWhat about me?โ Me: โโI do not know which to prefer, / The beauty of inflections / Or the beauty of innuendos, / The blackbird whistling / Or just after.โโ Augustus: โGod, you are sexy.โ Me: โWe could go to your room.โ Augustus: โIโve heard worse ideas.
John GreenAnd 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 leaveโuntil you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.
John GreenYou could hear the wind in the leaves, and on that wind traveled the screams of the kids on the playground in the distance, the little kids figuring out how to be alive, how to navigate a world that was not built for them by navigating a playground that was. . . Who am I to say that these things might not be forever? Who is Pete Van Houten to assert as fact the conjecture that our labor is temporary? All I know of heaven and all I know of death is in this park: an elegant universe in ceaseless motion, teeming with ruined ruins and screaming children.
John Green