She was not an adventure, she was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.

Leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can't do that until your life has grown roots.

I've gotten really hot since you went blind.

That feeling of finishedness does not come all at once, and it is not easily won, but I think once you get there it is hard to go back.

She had the kind of eyes that predisposed you to supporting her every endeavor.

Traveling, I am finding, teaches you a lot of things about yourself. For instance, I never thought myself to be the kind of person who pees into a mostly empty bottle of Bluefin energy drink while driving through South Carolina at seventy-seven miles per hour - but in face I am that kind of person.

Above us, the wind blew and the branching shadows rearranged themselves on our skin. Gus squeezed my hand. "It is a good life, Hazel Grace.