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And I don’t blame him. I don’t even trust me.

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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More quotes by John Green

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I tried--I swear I tried. But you didn't want to hear what I was saying, and I used that as an excuse to let it go on.
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me: you know what sucks about love? o.w.g.: what? me: that it's so tied to the truth. I know it sucks, but in a way, it's good....Love and truth being tied together, I mean. They make each other possible, you know?
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People are supposed to care. It's good that people mean something to you, that you miss people when they're gone.
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Home is Where the Heart Is, Good Friends Are Hard to Find and Impossible to Forget. True Love is Born from Hard Times.
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I make a gesture that is intended to convey, Hey, no hurry, talk as long as you'd like, and probably actually conveys, Hey, look at me! I have spastic hands.
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If we restructure things to see that the hero's journey is a degree in astrophysics rather than a journey to star in a reality show, that's a better world.
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the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate
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My regret was immediate and permanent and useless.
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A small olive-skinned creature who had hit puberty but never hit it very hard, Ben had been my best friend since fifth grade, when we both finally owned up to the fact that neither of us was likely to attract anyone else as a best friend.
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She has enough black eyeliner on to outline a corpse, and her skin's so pale she looks like she's just broken dawn.
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In the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you're trying to listen to.
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I knew that I would know more dead people. The bodies pile up. Could there be a space in my memory for each of them, or would I forget a little of Alaska every day for the rest of my life?
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Imagining isn't perfect. You can't get all the way inside someone else...But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in. It is the machine that kills fascists.
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And I vaguely remember her smiling at me from the door way the glittering ambiguity of a girls smile, which seems to promise an answer to the question, but never gives it. The question, the one we’ve all been asking since girls stopped being gross, the question that is to simple to be uncomplicated: Does she like me or does she LIKE me?
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The world went on, as it does, without my full participation, and I only woke up from the reverie when someone said my name.
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I believe in that line from An Imperial Affliction. 'The risen sun too bright in her losing eyes.' That's God, I think, the rising sun, and the light is too bright and her eyes are losing but they aren't lost.
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I think if you keep the box closed long enough you do kill the cat, actually.
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True love will triumph in the end—which may or may not be a lie, but if it is a lie, it's the most beautiful lie we have.
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I was a bit of a Victorian Lady, fainting-wise.
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I'm so proud of you that it makes me proud of me. I hope you know that.
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