Hazel Grace Lancaster Quotes

I fell in love like you would fall asleep: slowly and then all at once.

Maybe 'Okay' will be our 'always'...

I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence.

He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. "You're so hot," I said, my hand still on his leg. "I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish," he answered, still kissing me. I laughed. "I have an Augustus Waters fetish," I explained.

I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity

The thought of you being removed from the rotation is not funny to me.

Lonley, Vaguely pedophilic swing set seeks the butts of children.

Nothing,” I said. “I’m just…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, didn’t know how to. “I’m just very, very fond of you.

As I recall, you promised to CALL when you finished the book, not text.

Hi, I’m at the Speedway at Eighty-sixth and Ditch, and I need an ambulance. The great love of my life has a malfunctioning G-tube.

Augustus Waters was sitting on the front step as we pulled into the driveway. He was holding a bouquet of bright orange tulips just beginning to bloom.

Sure, anyone can name fourteen dead people. But we're disorganized mourners, so a lot of people end up remembering Shakespeare, and no one ends up remembering the person he wrote Sonnet Fifty-five about.

Idiotically, it occurred to me that my pink underwear didn’t match my purple bra, as if boys even notice such things.

You're always such a disappointment, Augustus. Couldn't you have at least gotten orange tomatoes?

When was the last good kiss you had?

so if the inevitability of oblivion worries you, than I suggest you ignore it. God knows that's what the rest of the world does.

I want more numbers that I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I can not tell you thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.

Between the three of us, we have five legs, four eyes & two & a half working pairs of lungs.

Algunos infinitos son más grandes que otros infinitos.

I nodded. I liked Augustus Waters. I really, really, really liked him. I liked the way his story ended with someone else. I liked his voice. I liked that he took existentially fraught free throws. I liked that he was a tenured professor in the Department of Slightly Crooked Smiles with a dual appointment in the Department of Having a Voice That Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin. And I liked that he had two names. I’ve always liked people with two names, because you get to make up your mind what you call them: Gus or Augustus? Me, I was always just Hazel, univalent Hazel.

If I could just stay alive for a week, I’d know the unwritten secrets of Anna’s mom and the Dutch Tulip Guy.

I can't go to Amsterdam. One of my doctors thinks it's a bad idea." He was quiet for a second. "God," he said. "I should've just paid for it myself. Should've just taken you straight from the Funky Bones to Amsterdam." "But then I would've had a probably fatal episode of deoxygenation in Amsterdam, and my body would have been shipped home in the cargo hold of an airplane," I said. "Well, yeah," he said. "But before that, my grand romantic gesture would have totally gotten me laid." I laughed pretty hard, hard enought that I felt where the chest tube had been. "You laugh because it's true," he said. I laughed again. "It's true, isn't it!" "Probably not," I said, and then after a moment added, "although you never know.

I am pretty unextraordinary, ~ Hazel Grace Lancaster.

What's your name ? Hazel . No , your full name . Um , Hazel Grace Lancaster .

There's a great quote in Gus's house, one that both he and I found very comforting: Without pain, we couldn't know joy. - Hazel Grace Lancaster

But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying. - Hazel Grace Lancaster

Funerals, I decided, are for the living. - Hazel Grace Lancaster

Gus, mi amor, no puedo decirte lo agradecida que estoy por nuestro pequeño infinito.Yo no lo cambiaría por nada del mundo. Me diste un para siempre dentro de los días contados, y te lo agradezco.

She didn’t understand why it was happening,” he said. “I had to tell her she would die. Her social worker said I had to tell her. I had to tell her she would die, so I told her she was going to heaven. She asked if I would be there, and I said that I would not, not yet. But eventually, she said, and I promised that yes, of course, very soon. And I told her that in the meantime we had great family up there that would take care of her. And she asked me when I would be there, and I told her soon. Twenty-two years ago.

His excitement was adorable. I couldn't resist. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. -Hazel Grace Lancaster, The Fault In Our Stars

It occurred to me that the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because the is always the thought that everything might be done better and again

You choose your behaviors based on their metaphorical resonances...- Hazel Grace Lancaster

Lidewij, I believe Agustus Waters sent a few pages from a notebok to Peter Van Houten shortly before he (Augustus) died. It is very important to me that someone reads these pages. I want to read them, of course, but maybe they weren't written for me. Regardless, they must be read. They must be. Can you help? Your friend, Hazel Grace Lancaster "She responded late that afternoon." Dear Hazel, I did not know that Augustus had died. I am very sad to hear this news. He was such a very charismatic young man. I am so sorry, and so sad. I have not spoken to Peter since I resigned that day we met. It is very late at night here, but I am going over to his house first thing in the morning to find this letter and force him to read it. Mornings were his best time, usually. Your friend, Lidewij Vliegenthart p.s. I am bringing my boyfriend in case we have to physically retsrain Peter.

Dear Mr. Peter Van Houten (c/o Lidewij Vliegenthart), My name is Hazel Grace Lancaster. My friend Augustus Waters, who read An Imperial Affliction at my recommendationtion, just received an email from you at this address. I hope you will not mind that Augustus shared that email with me. Mr. Van Houten, I understand from your email to Augustus that you are not planning to publish any more books. In a way, I am disappointed, but I'm also relieved: I never have to worry whether your next book will live up to the magnificent perfection of the original. As a three-year survivor of Stage IV cancer, I can tell you that you got everything right in An Imperial Affliction. Or at least you got me right. Your book has a way of telling me what I'm feeling before I even feel it, and I've reread it dozens of times. I wonder, though, if you would mind answering a couple questions I have about what happens after the end of the novel. I understand the book ends because Anna dies or becomes too ill to continue writing it, but I would really like to mom-wether she married the Dutch Tulip Man, whether she ever has another child, and whether she stays at 917 W. Temple etc. Also, is the Dutch Tulip Man a fraud or does he really love them? What happens to Anna's friends-particularly Claire and Jake? Do they stay that this is the kind of deep and thoughtful question you always hoped your readers would ask-what becomes of Sisyphus the Hamster? These questions have haunted me for years-and I don't know long I have left to get answers to them. I know these are not important literary questions and that your book is full of important literally questions, but I would just really like to know. And of course, if you ever do decide to write anything else, even if you don't want to publish it. I'd love to read it. Frankly, I'd read your grocery lists. Yours with great admiration, Hazel Grace Lancaster (age 16)

There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.” - Hazel Grace Lancaster

Okay.' 'Okay.' "Maybe 'Okay' will be our 'Always'." "Okay.

What’s your name?” he asked. “Hazel.” “No, your full name.” “Um, Hazel Grace Lancaster.

Patience, grasshopper

There will come a time,” I said, “when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this”—I gestured encompassingly—“will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.” – Hazel Grace Lancaster

Vai chegar um dia em que todos vamos estar mortos. Todos nós. Vai chegar um dia em que não vai sobrar nenhum ser humano sequer para lembrar que alguém já existiu ou que nossa espécie fez qualquer coisa nessa mundo. Não vai sobrar ninguém para se lembrar de Aristóteles ou de Cleópatra, quanto mais de você. Tudo o que fizemos, construímos, escrevemos, pensamos e descobrimos vai ser esquecido e tudo isso aqui vai ter sido inútil. Pode ser que esse dia chegue logo e pode ser que demore milhões de anos, mas, mesmo que o mundo sobreviva a uma explosão do Sol, não vamos viver para sempre. Houve um tempo antes do surgimento da consciência nos organismos vivos, e vai haver outro depois. E se a inevitabilidade do esquecimento humano preocupa você, sugiro que deixe esse assunto para lá. Deus sabe que é isso o que todo mundo faz - Hazel Grace Lancaster

And of course, if you ever do decide to write anything else, even if you don’t want to publish it, I’d love to read it. Frankly, I’d read your grocery lists. Yours with great admiration, Hazel Grace Lancaster