Also, I feel that crying is almost--like, aside from deaths of relatives or whatever-- totally avoidable if you follow two very simple rules: 1.Don't care too much. 2. Shut up. Everything unfortunate that has ever happened to me has stemmed from failure to follow one of the rules.

I didn't want to look at them, so I looked away, and to look away was to look at Augustus.

Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won’t be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should.

People always get used to beauty though.

I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can't due to deadness.

I fear oblivion. I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark.

My stomach sank. JP had come so close. His immigrant parents had sacrificed so much.