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The minister said, “Let us pray,” but as everyone else bowed their head, I could only stare slack-jawed at the sight of Peter Van Houten. After a moment, he whispered, “We gotta fake pray,” and bowed his head.

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
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Slack

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People, I thought, wanted security. They couldn't bear the idea of death being a big black nothing, couldn't bear the thought of their loved ones not existing, and couldn't even imagine themselves not existing. I finally decided that people believed in an afterlife because they couldn't bear not to.
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...it occurred to me that the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because there is always the thought that everything might be done better and again.
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There's no reason whatsoever to drink eight glasses of water a day unless you, for whatever reason, particularly like the taste of water
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All the characters are made out of words. With reading, I understand that the people aren't real but the fact that they are made out of language and are made out of words is extremely powerful to me. It becomes transformative for me. Different people have different ways of trying to make stories using language.
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What matters to you defines your mattering.
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The part I enjoy most is not the doing, but the noticing.
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Tuesday—we had school for the first time. Madame O’Malley had a moment of silence at the beginning of French class, a class that was always punctuated with long moments of silence, and then asked us how we were feeling. “Awful,” a girl said. “En français,” Madame O’Malley replied. “En français.
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Alaska decided to go help Dolores with dinner. She said that it was sexist to leave the cooking to the women, but better to have good sexist food than crappy boy-prepared food.
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Observation: It would be awesome to fly in a superfast airplane that could chase the sunrise around the world for a while.
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From the front Rdar announces, Don't you go talking bad about GoFast bars. Do you want me to stop this car? Whenever I eat a GoFast bar, Ben says, I'm always like, 'So this is what blood tastes like to mosquitoes.
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Were she better or you sicker, then the stars would not be so terribly crossed, but it is the nature of the stars to cross.
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In the ensuing silence, I have time to contemplate the word cute— how dismissive it is, how it’s the equivalent of calling someone little, how it makes a person into a baby, how the word is a neon sign burning through the dark reading, “Feel Bad About Yourself.
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The act of leaning in to kiss someone, or asking them, is fraught with the possibility of rejection, so the person least likely to get rejected should do the leaning in or the asking.
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Sometimes the way you think about someone isn't the way they actually are.
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So how’s it going?” “Okay. Glad to be home, I guess. Gus told me you were in the ICU?” “Yeah,” I said. “Sucks,” he said. “I’m a lot better now,” I said. “I’m going to Amsterdam tomorrow with Gus.” “I know. I’m pretty well up-to-date on your life, because Gus never. Talks. About. Anything. Else.
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But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail
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I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life.
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I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater.
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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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At the end, we brought her to New York, where I was living, for a series of experimental tortures that increased the misery of her days without increasing the number of them.
John Green