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The labyrinth blows, but I choose it.

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
Labyrinth
Blows
Blow
Choose
Colonels
Hipster

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I don't like reindeer. They seem like regular deer, only more dangerous.
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Anyway, that was the last good day I had with Gus until the Last Good Day.
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I think all true stories are hopeful stories. I don't think there's any room for nihilism.
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He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. You're so hot, I said, my hand still on his leg. I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish, he answered, still kissing me. I laughed. I have an Augustus Waters fetish, I explained.
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i wanted more time so we could fall in love.
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There's your labyrinth of suffering. We are all going. Find your way out of that maze.
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Love is just a shout in the void.
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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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Colin did not laugh. Instead he thought, Tampons have strings? Why? Of all the major human mysteries - God, the nature of the universe, etc. - he knew the least about tampons. To Colin, tampons were a little bit like grizzly bears: he was aware of their existence, but he'd never seen on in the wild, and didn't really care to.
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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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She had the kind of eyes that predisposed you to supporting her every endeavor.
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And yet still I worried. I like being a person. I wanted to keep at it. Worry is yet another side effect of dying.
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A paper town for a paper girl.
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I don't see any point in nihilism... just as I suppose the nihilist sees no point in everything else.
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You could hold me and I could hold you. And it would be so peaceful. Completely peaceful. Like the feeling of sleep, but awake in it together.
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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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How strange and how lovely it is to be anything at all.
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But you want to see shapes you want to see stories, so you pick them out of the sky.
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I've gotten really hot since you went blind.
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