The funny thing about writing is that whether you’re doing well or doing it poorly, it looks the exact same. That’s actually one of the main ways that writing is different from ballet dancing.
Neither novels or their readers benefit from any attempts to divine whether any facts hide inside a story. Such efforts attack the very idea that made-up stories can matter, which is sort of the foundational assumption of our species.
All sorts of yayness floods my brain. Love is such a drug.
Remember that time in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, when we didn’t die?
There is only one things in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you’re sixteen, and that’s having a kid who bites it from cancer.
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.
I thought being an adult meant knowing what you believe, but that has not been my experience.
Mom sobbed something into Dad’s chest that I wish I hadn’t heard, and that I hope she never finds out that I did hear. She said, “I won’t be a mom anymore.” It gutted me pretty badly.
We all want to do something to mitigate the pain of loss or to turn grief into something positive, to find a silver lining in the clouds. But I believe there is real value in just standing there, being still, being sad.
For a moment, she was quiet. Then she grabbed my hand, whispered, “Run run run run run,” and took off, pulling me behind her.
We live in a universe devoted to the creation, and eradication, of awareness. Augustus Waters did not die after a lengthy battle with cancer. He died after a lengthy battle with human consciousness, a victim – as you will be – of the universe’s need to make and unmake all that is possible.
I’m really not up for answering any questions that start with how, when, where, why or what.
Dude, you’re such a geek. And that’s coming from an overweight Star Trek fan who scored a 5 on the AP Calculus test. So you know your condition is grave.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow- that, in short, we are all going.
I liked that he was a tenured professor in the Department of Slightly Crooked Smiles with a dual appointments in the Department of Having a Voice that Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin.
Traveling, I am finding, teaches you a lot of things about yourself. For instance, I never thought myself to be the kind of person who pees into a mostly empty bottle of Bluefin energy drink while driving through South Carolina at seventy-seven miles per hour – but in face I am that kind of person.
You should see it. V for Vendetta I mean. “I’ll look it up.” No. With Me. At my house. Now.
So why don’t you go home for vacations?? I asked her. I’m just scared of ghosts, Pudge. And home is full of them.
Love is keeping the promise anyway.
I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life...