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If I could do it all over again, he said, his speech slow and vaguely mangled by his massive lower lip, I'd just let myself be trampled to death by the Satan Pig.
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
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Indianapolis
Indiana
John Michael Green
Slow
Lips
Mangled
Speech
Trampled
Death
Vaguely
Pigs
Lower
Satan
Massive
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The human tongue is like wasabi: it's very powerful, and should be used sparingly.
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I change my keyboard between every book. I usually shop around. I'm very passionate about the physical feel of pressing the keys. It's got to have the right springiness. I tend to find the built-in keys very unsatisfying, the keys are low-profile and don't really do anything - I want it to feel like I'm typing.
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Oh, God, Alaska, I love you. I love you,' and the Colonel whispered, 'I'm so sorry, Pudge. I know you did,' and I said, 'No. Not past tense.
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We can hear others, and we can travel with them without moving, and we can imagine them, and we are all connected one to the other by a crazy root system, like so many leaves of grass. But the game makes me wonder wheter we can really ever fully become another.
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She was up and down—from fire and brimstone to smoke and ashes.
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We have to live with ambiguity. We have to give ourselves over to it. The question is: How? How are we going to live in a universe where important questions will always go unanswered?
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I didn’t need you, you idiot. I picked you. And then you picked me back.
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And he was feeling not-unique in the very best possible way.
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I opened the door. He looked down at my shirt and smiled. Funny, he said. Don't call my boobs funny, I answered.
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3 whole Catfish, Wrapped separately Veet (It’s for Shaving your legs Only you don’t Need A razor. It’s with all the Girly cosmetic stuff) Vaseline six pack, Mountain Dew One dozen Tulips one Bottle Of water Tissues One Can of blue Spray paint
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It's embarrassing that we all just walk through life blindly accepting that scrambled eggs are fundamentally associated with mornings.
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Nothing has ever looked like that ever in all of human history.
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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.
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She had the kind of eyes that predisposed you to supporting her every endeavor.
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I hadn’t read a real series like that since I was a kid, and it was exciting to live again in an infinite fiction.
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I think forever is an incorrect concept.
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We didn't talk much. But we didn't need to.
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