I wouldn't have cared if my girlfriend was a Jaguar-driving Cyclops with a beard - I'd have been grateful just to have… — John Green Copy Share Image
“because the driving kept him going stay under seventy; God, my heart racing; I hate the taste of coffee; so wired though;… — John Green Copy Share Image
Traveling, I am finding, teaches you a lot of things about yourself. For instance, I never thought myself to be the kind… — John Green Copy Share Image
And as we kept driving north, the whole family in the care together, it got darker, and snowier, until finally the road… — John Green Copy Share Image
Thank you," I say, pounding his back probably too hard. "That was the best damned passenger-seat driving I've ever seen in my… — John Green Copy Share Image
The beautiful thing about driving was that it stole just enough of his attention - car parked on the side, maybe a… — John Green Copy Share Image
Issac:"I dislike living in a world without Augustus Waters." Computer: "I don't understand-" Issac: "Me neither. Pause — John Green Copy Share
She smiled with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning and said, "Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die." -… — John Green Copy Share
Neither novels or their readers benefit from any attempts to divine whether any facts hide inside a story. Such efforts attack the very idea… — John Green Copy Share
“Traffic's not too bad on Sheridan, and I'm cornering the car like it's the Indy 500, and we're listening to my favorite NMH song,… — John Green Copy Share
So I was ugly. I was never fat, really, and I never wore headgear or had zits or anything. But I was ugly. I… — John Green Copy Share
“said to him quietly, as if I couldn’t hear or something. Dad was about to respond but I interrupted.” — John Green Copy Share
“He was hot. A nonhotboy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a… — John Green Copy Share
I think if you keep the box closed long enough you do kill the cat, actually. — John Green Copy Share
Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it… — John Green Copy Share
