Character: Hazel Grace Lancaster. Page 3

Assessing myself in the mirror and fumbling with a brush in the teeth, I thought that there are two types of adults. There are the van houtens are pathetic creatures who prowl the earth seeking whom painful to touch. And there are those, like my parents - walk like a zombie, doing everything automatically, and what to do to keep going.
None of the future I didn't like.

While he read, I fell in love, as we usually fall asleep: slowly and then all at once.

The time will come when there will be people who remember that anyone was even doing something. Nobody will be left who remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, not to mention you. Everything we've done, built, wrote, invented and discovered will be forgotten. All of this - I waved an arm at the audience, disappears without a trace. Maybe that time will come soon, maybe he still has millions of years, but even if we survive the collapse of the Sun, forever, humanity can not exist. There was a time before organisms are aware of their existence, there will be time after us. But if you are concerned about the inevitability of oblivion, I suggest you ignore this fear, as do all the rest.

I want to say that the time will come when we will all die. Life was to people, it will be after. It can happen tomorrow, maybe in a million years. And when we die, no one will remember Cleopatra or Muhammad Ali or Mozart, not to mention us. Oblivion is inevitable.

Isaac, I'm sorry. Want to talk about it?
- No, I want to cry and play video games.

There are works like "the Royal disease", which I do not want to say out loud: this books so special and rare and yours that you declared your preference seems to be a betrayal.

It was a lovely day, finally like a real summer, warm and humid - this weather after a long winter reminds you that if the world was not designed for people, then we have something for sure was for him.

I just wish you missed me, but it's impossible. You will never be enough. But that's all you have. I, your family, this world. It's your life. I'm sorry if it sucks. But you're not the first person on Mars, not gonna be a basketball star, do not fight with the Nazis.

When you get in the emergency room, the first thing they ask to do is to rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, and so they decide what to introduce and how fast. I have been asked this question hundreds of times over the years, and I remember once when I couldn't breathe, and my chest was on fire, as if flames were licking my ribs from the inside, trying to get outside to burn all my body, my parents took me to the emergency room. The nurse asked me about pain, and I couldn't even speak, so I raised nine fingers.
Later, when they told me something is introduced, the nurse came in and she sort of stroked my hand while I measured the pressure, and she said, "you Know, I understand that you're a fighter? You called a ten a nine."
But it wasn't just that. I called the pain team, because I saved myself a tenner. And here they are, the great and terrible ten, it strikes me again and again until I'm not moving lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, and the waves toss me on the rocks and then carry back to the sea, to then again start me subiste ledges of the cliff and left to lie on the water UN-sinking.

- People always get used to beauty.
I'm still not used to.

Sometimes people don't understand the promises they give.