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Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

John Green

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John Green
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: August 24
Author
Businessperson
Critic
Editor
Film Producer
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Podcaster
Singer
Indianapolis
Indiana
John Michael Green
Hours
Every
Colder
Breath
Breaths
Hour
Dead

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I shaved this morning for precisely that reason. I was like, 'Well, you never know when someone is going to clamp down on your calf and try to suck out the snake poison.
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One of the jobs of a writer is to add nuance and ambiguity to that straight line that people often draw to very specific kinds of heroism. Most of us don't get to be Snooki. For most of us heroism has to be in our everyday lives.
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it is the nature of stars to cross
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Youth is counted sweetest by those who are no longer young.
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There's not even real *popularity* at my school. That, Coli said emphatically, is a sentence that has only ever been spoken by popular people.
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Boys do not have the monopoly in Staring Business, after all.
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I never liked writing concluding paragraphs to papers - where you repeat what you've already said with phrases like 'In summation', and 'To conclude'.
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A paper town for a paper girl.
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You were clearly not doing your part in the clover search, perv.
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What happens in the band room stays in the band room.
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We're all just facilitators. The real business is done by readers.
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Love is just a shout in the void.
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He reached up t0 grab one and came down with several, and they kept coming, washing over him, floating all around him. Never have tampon strings seemed so beautiful as they rolled up and down with the wind, landing on the ground and then twirling and floating up again, falling and rising and falling and rising.
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My head was level with hers as we stared at each other from opposite sides of the glass. I don't remember how it ended - if I went to bed or she did. In my memory, it doesn't end. We just stay there, looking at each other, forever.
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The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.
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What can we do? Mom asked again. I shrugged. But she kept asking, as if there were something she could do, until I just kind of crawled across the couch into her lap and my dad came over and held my legs really tight and I wrapped my arms all the way around my mom's middle and they held on to me for hours while the tide rolled in.
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People talk about the courage of cancer patients, and I do not deny that courage. I had been poked and stabbed and poisoned for years, and still I trod on. But make no mistake: In that moment, I would have been very, very happy to die.
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I found his last words without too much searching. Captured by the Bolivian army, Guevara said, 'Shoot, coward. You are only going to kill a man.
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We did a few things worth remembering, and I wish for someone to remember them.
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And then I screwed up and the Colonel screwed up and Takumi screwed up and she slipped through our fingers.
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