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Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.
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
Future
Kind
Hipster
Labyrinth
Alaska
Imagining
Nostalgia
More quotes by John Green
Right, well, he'd been sick for a while and his nurse said to him, 'You seem to be feeling better this morning,' and Isben looked at her and said, 'On the contrary,' and then he died.
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It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.
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I am a giant squid of anger.
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I kept thinking there were two kinds of adults: There were...miserable creatures who scoured the earth in search of something to hurt. And then there were people like my parents, who walked around zombically, doing whatever they had to do to keep walking around.
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At some point we all look up and realize we are lost in a maze.
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She had the kind of fingers you want to interlace with your own.
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My days had a pleasant identicalness about them. I had always liked that: I liked routine. I liked being bored. I didn’t want to but I did.
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It's not fair, I said. It's just so goddamned unfair. The world, he said, is not a wishgranting factory.
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I was thinking about this girl you love so much, she said, And this place I love so much. And how that happens. How you can just fall into it.
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Writing does not resurrect. It buries.
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I write about broken people who need other people in order to go on. But those are the only kind of people I know to exist. We are all broken.
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There's a place in the brain for knowing what cannot be remembered.
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The vast majority of us imagine ourselves as like literature people or math people. But the truth is that the massive processor known as the human brain is neither a literature organ or a math organ. It is both and more.
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I thought you hung the moon.
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Why don’t we break up? I guess I stay with her because she stays with me. And that’s not an easy thing to do.
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The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle.
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Those of us who frequent the band room have long suspected that Becca maintains her lovely figure by eating nothing but the souls of kittens and the dreams of impoverished children.
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The joy you bring us is so much greater than the sadness we feel about your illness.
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The whole thing was the precise opposite of what I figured it would be: slow and patient and quiet and neither particularly painful nor particularly ecstatic
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We idealize them as gods or dismiss them as animals.
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