As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

I'll fight it. I'll fight it for you. Don't you worry about me, Hazel Grace. I'm okay. I'll find a way to hang around and annoy you for a long time.

Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will

I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things.

I'm sorry. I know you loved her. It was hard not to.

We all know how loving ends. But I want to fall in love with the world anyway, to let it crack me open. I want to feel what there is to feel while I am here.

Love is keeping the promise anyway.

Maybe 'Okay' will be our 'always'...

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

Some people have lives; some people have music.

You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.

At some point we all look up and realize we are lost in a maze.

The thing about a spiral is, if you follow it inward, it never actually ends. It just keeps tightening, infinitely.

Do you know what your problem is? You can't live with the idea that someone might leave.

To be alive is to be missing.

I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life..

What about the rest of your life?"She shrugged. "What about it?""Aren't you worried about, like, forever?""Forever is composed of nows," she says.

I don't know how I look, but I know how I feel: Young. Goofy. Infinite.

I liked being a person. I wanted to keep at it.

Imagine others complexly.

I just want to do something that matters. Or be something that matters. I just want to matter.

Life has become the future. Every moment of your life is lived for the future.

I always felt like you had to be important to have enemies.

It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.

I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.

The real heroes anyway aren't the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention.

I was born into Bolívar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps.

As long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story.

Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.

Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.

Just move to the Internet, its great here. We get to live inside where the weather is always awesome.

Every year, many, many stupid people graduate from college. And if they can do it, so can you.

Principled hate is a hell of a lot stronger than "Boy, I wish you hadn't mummified me and thrown me into the lake" hate.

I figured something out," he said aloud. "The future is unpredictable."Hassan said, "Sometimes the kafir likes to say massively obvious things in a really profound voice.

No headboards were broken.

He specialized in the murder of dreams, Hazel Grace...

I just think if you don't say the honest thing, sometimes the honest thing never becomes true, you know, and I-

If you want the rainbow, you have to deal with the rain.

We all romanticize the people we adore.

My whole life I though I was the star of an overly earnest romance movie, and it turns out I was in a goddamned buddy comedy all along.

he is both the source of my happiness and the one i want to share it with. i have to believe that’s a sign.

Poetry is just so emo." he said. "Oh, the pain. The pain. It always rains. In my soul.

So dawn goes down today... Nothing gold can stay.-- Robert Frost

Reading someone's poetry is like seeing them naked" -Davis Pritchett

Because there is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.

I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can't due to deadness.

I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should.

Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.

I went on spouting bullshit Encouragements as Gus's parents, arm in arm, hugged each other and nodded at every word. Funerals, I had decided, are for the living.

I didn't tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You're a woman. Now die.

It's not how you die. It's who you die.

The thing about dead people... The thing is you sound like a bastard if you don't romanticize them, but the truth is... complicated, I guess.

It was an indulgence, learning last words. Other people had chocolate; I had dying declarations.

I was caught in a love triangle with one dead side.

Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. When we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.

You can't just make me different and then leave

My father died suddenly, but also across the years. He was still dying, really - which meant I guess that he was still living, too.

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

She cannot possibly be dead, people do not just die

Like many people, I feel like celebrating. Remember this feeling. It is human, and can help us understand when others express bloodlust.

We need never be hopeless because we can never be irreperably broken.

There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.

We need never be without hope because we can never be irreparably broken.

Nothing is simpler than despair, but I don't think any simple story tells the whole story. So all hail complexities

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive

I was not religious, but I liked rituals. I liked the idea of connecting an action with remembering.

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.

You know your problem, Quentin? You keep expecting people not to be themselves.

It’s quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see.

I wouldn't have cared if my girlfriend was a Jaguar-driving Cyclops with a beard - I'd have been grateful just to have someone to make out with.

There is no try. There is only do.

Photographs are just light and time,

What a slut time is. She screws with everybody.

What a slut time is. She screws everybody...

there is also some deeper fear: the terror of time passing, and me with it.

Keeping the box closed just keeps you in the dark, not the universe... but failing to open the box doesn't kill the cat.