This is unbearable ... God. These books she'll never read. Her Life's Library.

A Margo for each of us--and each more mirror than window.

Whatever. Great day. Today. Best day of my life.

It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one she loved. And I knew I wasn’t. I knew it, and I hated her for it. I hated her for not caring about me. I hated her for leaving that night, and I hated myself , too, not only because I let her go but because if I had been enough for her, she wouldn’t have even wanted to leave. She would have just lain with me and talked and cried, and I would have listened and kissed at her tears as they pooled in her eyes.

I stand in this parking lot, realizing that I’ve never been this far from home, and here is this girl I love and cannot follow. I hope this is the hero’s errand, because not following her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I do, Augustus. I do.

Talking to a drunk person was like talking to an extremely happy, severely brain-damaged three-year-old.