Author of quotes: John Green. Page 2

In English this phrase, "be in love", it sounds weird, if love is a sea in which you drown, or the town in which they live. Nothing else - neither in friendship nor in anger nor in hope - you are not. It is only in love. And I wanted to answer him: though I didn't fall even once, I know what it's like to be in the feeling to be not just surrounded by, and permeated them like a God. When thoughts are twisted in a spiral, I'm inside, become part of it.

He just... Probably at some point understand: the one who cares about you, is only a man. He is not omnipotent and can't protect you from suffering.

I knew what he - my thoughts were confused all my life, I couldn't even think of them until the end, because they came not in the form of lines, and in the form of entangled balls, resembled a quicksand, swallowing the light or wormholes.

I was disgusted with myself. Disgusting. But I couldn't myself to pull away because she's stuck inside.

I may be just a lie that you whisper to yourself?

I guess I just don't like that I have to live inside the body. If you know what I mean. Perhaps in essence, I'm just a tool that exists to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. I'm just a body in this... infinity. And me to some extent appalling, I actually can't control your so-called I.

And although I laughed with them, felt like I was watching from the side, as if watching a movie about his life instead of live.

One of the difficulties associated with pain - physical or psychological - is that we can approach her only with the help of metaphors. It is impossible to imagine how we present the table or the body. In a sense, pain is the opposite of the tongue.

If the tablet is changing you, your deepest essence... this is not normal, right? Who decides what I am, - I or factory workers, producing a "Lexapro"? In me like a demon, and I want to expel him, but the idea is to do it through pills... don't know, she's weird. But I got it and not once saw a drug because I hate the demon.

I do not know. Well, I'm sitting in the dining room and start to think about how I have all these things, they eat food for me, and I'm, like, all of them are that I don't as many people as disgusting bubble teeming with bacteria. And I can't clean up, you know? Because the mud creeping up on me. That is, I can't find in the depths of himself pure and spotless part, the part where should be my soul. It turns out that the souls I have probably no more than bacteria.

He wrote about thoughts exactly as I was going through - for me it was not a choice but a destiny. No catalogue of consciousness, but the opposite.

I don't pay attention to the alarm. To worry about of course. Life itself is disturbing.

Hurts or not, doesn't matter.
Is a good motto.

Looking at you anyone can. But very rarely meet someone who sees the same world as you.