Author of quotes: John Green. Page 1

All consider themselves heroes of their own epic, but in reality, we - virtually identical to the organisms that formed a colony in a spacious room without Windows, smelling of cleaning fluid and fat.

Do you consider yourself an artist, but you're the canvas.

If you live, so you someone is not enough.

Imagine that you want to find someone or to yourself, but you have no senses. You can't understand where the walls are, where to go forward and back that is water and air. You're insensitive, you don't have forms. So the only way to describe is to determine what you're not and you're swimming in a body that doesn't obey you. Not for you to decide who you are, where you live, you have what to be afraid of. You're just stuck inside, all alone, in the dark. That's scary. and this - I turned on the flashlight, control over the situation. Power. There might be rats and spiders and God knows what. But we light up their lanterns, and not Vice versa. We know where the walls are and where we go. So, I again turned off the flashlight, I feel when I'm scared.

There is no "self" that you hate. Just when I look in myself, I does not exist as such - just a set of thoughts and actions, and circumstances.

But you're the best person I know, and you don't like mustard. You look like a pizza, and I have it the highest rating.

The words which you call despair, fear, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder - does not reflect the meaning. Perhaps we came up with the metaphor because of the pain. It was necessary to give some vague form, sitting deep inside the pain that eludes the mind and the senses.

It became clear to me how I was disgusting. Now I knew for sure. I'm not possessed by a demon. I - is a demon.

Thoughts - just another kind of bacteria that live in you.

"You feel a threat to themselves?" But where is the threat and I? I couldn't say that I'm not a threat, but did not understand to whom or what. Abstract blurred pronouns and additions in this sentence, non-linguistic funnel sucked the words.

I thought this cycle: I light the light of his bedroom, and he is the light of my. I saw Davis just because he could see me. We were lying in the granular silver light, and fear and joy of this being, it seemed that we really are not in their beds, and in some imperceptible place in the minds of each other. The proximity of bodies in real life could not be compared with this intimacy.

She noticed - not once - that the meteors fall up there, even though we can't see them. What's the difference if she knew how to kiss? She sees through the clouds.

Worst of all in this solitude, to remember how many times you wished you left it all alone. And so they left you, and it turns out that you yourself wretched company.

I want to know is there an independent "me"? The deep, true self that doesn't change the fact that if she has money or the guy, if she goes to one school or another. Or am I just a set of circumstances?