Lancaster Quotes

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

I can't believe anyone would voluntarily run 26 miles. Sometimes I sit on the couch cross-legged because I don't feel like walking to the bathroom.

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

You want to change? Lose the bitch. Be nicer to people. Stop telling them to "bite you" and threatening to kick them until they're dead.

Falling in love should be the easiest thing in the world, but it's not.

Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.

I'm not lazy. I'm simply judicious about excess movement.

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

Worrying is arrogant because God knows what He's doing.

Owning a dog is slightly less expensive than being addicted to crack.

Kiss the fattest part of my ass

Life takes us on different paths... It's not up to us to evaluate or judge them, merely respect and embrace them. (Lara Lington - to Sadie Lancaster)

If you're anorexic, you're doing it wrong." I swat him with a dish towel. "No, no, I mean anorexics look in the mirror, and even if they're eighty pounds, they still see a fat girl. I'm a hundred pounds heavier than I was in high school, my veins are full of creme fraiche, and yet I look in the mirror, take in the hair and makeup, and think, Damn, baby, you fiiine.

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.

The Earl of Lancaster loudly spoke, “Piers Gaveston, this court finds you guilty of treason, of sodomy and sedition as well as many other crimes against God! You shall be taken to Blacklow Hill, which shall by your place of execution, and you shall be put to death by two of my Welsh soldiers! May God have mercy upon your soul!

Worry about tomorrow steals the joy from today.

We were each other's rock. But did it make us each other's destiny?

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

I don't mean to get all religious here, but I'm pretty sure key lime martinis (with a graham cracker & sugar rim) are proof that Jesus loves us.

In writing. Don't use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was "terrible," describe it so that we'll be terrified. Don't say it was "delightful"; make us say "delightful" when we've read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers, "Please will you do my job for me." [Letter to Joan Lancaster, 26 June 1956]

I still believe in the Holy Trinity, except now it's Target, Trader Joe's, and IKEA.

When did wishing someone a Merry Christmas become politically incorrect?

I think that's what we all want, in the end. To know that we left footprints when we passed by, however briefly. We want to be remembered. So remember us. Please. Remember us.

Some people are destined to be deep thinkers. I am not one of those people.

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

This is terrific! What fun! Maybe tomorrow I can go to the prom with my brother. The day after, perhaps I can wear white pants and unexpectedly get my period.

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.

My love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity, ~ Hazel Lancaster.

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.

Despite my best efforts, I'm not quite perfect. Let's just say I'm like one of those Hopi blankets where they leave a tiny flaw so as to not affront the Lord.

You know what it was like? It was like thinking I was heading to a surprise party and instead it was a surprise pap smear.

In other words? The bitch had it coming. And I am that bitch.

I yearn to be a woman of more depth, but I'm not so fond of the path I'd need to follow to get there.

We fail in the work of grace and love when there is too much of us and not enough of God.

When my grandmother was alive, she used to tell me that every time God creates a soul in heaven, he creates another to become its special mate. And that once we're born, we begin our search for our soul mate, the one person who's the perfect fit for our mind and body. They lucky oens find each other.

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.

As I examine my life through this book, I can't help but wonder if my mother was right. Maybe I really was what I ate. And maybe if she'd let me eat a little more sugar, I'd have come out sweeter.

A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime. That’s what I want. I want someone to promise me a million kisses and more.

For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.

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

Sometimes God calms the storm, but sometimes God lets the storm rage and calms His child.

Supposedly, dreams reflect our hidden fears and secret desires, all clamoring for attention.

I had a feeling that Ben Lancaster had just tattooed himself onto my soul and the thing about tattoos? They were painful to remove.

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

Cost to clean deeply soiled rugs: $200. Cost to replace shiny, black, stack-heeled, pilgrim-toed boots: $185. Cost to fix every single delicious table and chair leg in the house: $490. Life with two shelter dogs: fucking priceless.

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.

It’s been three years, four months, two days and a handful of hours since the first moment I set eyes on her. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The absolute bane of my existence.

Because I want you to know that your're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And I thought I should introduce myself. I mean, we should get to know each other. Since you're the girl I intend to marry. ~Mark Gianni

As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.

Lindsey: Why would you choose me? Rafe: Because you're the one I want.

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

Ambien might have mentally just tossed my salad. WITH CROUTONS.

Algunos infinitos son más grandes que otros infinitos.

Not everyone has to fly high to prove they exist; some of us are perfectly happy flying low and enjoying the view.

Adults are just making things up as they go along. And when they’re scared, adults have no more answers than us kids

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.

Was it possible to measure what the heart felt?

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

All was in God's plan, and he had to accept even as he didn't understand.

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 would rather receive a Pap smear from Captain Hook than venture out on New Year's Eve.

Dreams so often become nightmares. Family can so easily become foes. And people are always more stupid than you give them credit for.

I have no desire to spend every night of the next few months at balls and soirees or drowning in tea with morning callers.

Fletch then kisses me on the forehead before opening the cabinet under the coffeemaker to grab placemats and napkins. Retrieving these items is his job because I kind of don't like to bend. I also refuse to carry anything heavier than my purse.

But ever since I made the decision to drop a few pounds-way less easy than it sounds, by the way-I've become obsessed with my size and in so doing I've inadvertently allowed my inner critic to have a voice. And you know what? She's a bitch. Like now when I see my underpants in the laundry, I no longer think Soft! Cotton! Sensible! Instead I hear her say Damn, girl, these panties be huge.

I have found that sometimes a person is the last to know when she is in love. One's heart does not always share it's secrets with one's mind.

Maybe I've moved to the dark side, but it's clean and nice and we never run out of toilet paper.

When I hug her, I notice she's still wearing yesterday's false eyelashes. Mom? You know those come off with a little makeup remover and a cotton pad?" I'm not taking them off." Why not?" I spent $180 on that makeup job and I refuse to wash my face until I get my money's worth.

You think you're so cool just because you can walk!

In extraordinary times, the ordinary takes on a glow and wonder all of its own

Enjoy today because it won't come back.

Point? Maybe you aren't a Carrie or a Samantha or a Charlotte or a Miranda. Maybe you're just you.

Amen,' I exclaim, accidentally spitting out a Raisinet. I pick up the chocolate with a Kleenex and stuff it in my purse. Ten bucks says a month from now I'll have forgotten about it and will finally have said heart attack when I assume a rat shat in there.

So now I'm getting my gown made by an exclusive seamstress, and all thos anorexic whores on Michigan Avenue and Oak Street who made me feel like the Goodyear blimp can kiss the very fattest part of my ass.

I stuff another handful of Raisinets in my mouth. What gets me is the 'pretty face' bit. 'Cause I won't mind being reminded I'm fat as long as you water it down first. Why not say, Hey I'm going to insult you, but first I will congratulate your fortunate genetics and appropriate appliclation of Bobbi Brown cosmetics to prevent you from hitting me. Sh*t; I kind of prefer being called a 'fat bitch.' At least it doesn't pull any punches.

I've determined the ideal job for me is one where I can write clever essays about my life and my employer will give me enough money not only to live a comfortable existence, but also to buy many, many new pairs of shoes.

No, it's not a 'corpse thing.' I feel I lack the emotional capacity to deal with those in mourning...

Without the friendship we'd never have discovered the reason we were friends.

Sometimes, doing something without thinking can be liberating.

Seriously, our nation is never going to be on the same page on issues like gun control, welfare, the economy, the environment, etc. I doubt we'll ever come to terms on tastes great or less filling and hybrids versus Hummers, and there will always be Yankees fans and Red Sox fans, and never the 'twain shall meet. Fortunately, all it takes for us to be of one mind is some buttercream frosting.

I want to change my life...except I sort of like it. I mean, I couldn't be more delighted every Monday night after Fletch goes to bed when I come downstairs, pull up the Bachelor on TiVo, drink Riesling, and eat cheddar/port wine Kaukauna cheese without freakign out over fat grams. I'm perpetually in a good mood because I do everything I want. I love having the freedom to skip the gym to watch a Don Knots movie on the Disney Channel without a twinge of guilt. I've figured out how to not be beholden to what other people believe I should be doing, and when the world tells me I ought to be a size eight, I can thumb my nose at them in complete empowerment.

That's the problem with belief: If you rely on it too heavily, you have a lot of picking up to do after you find out you were wrong.

Hell hath no fury like a middle-aged woman in a fuzzy pink robe, hopped up on a winning combination of allergy medicine, Alias reruns, and anger.

Over the summer we chatted one night while Angie stripped a bed, changed wet sheets, comforted and repajamaed a toddler, and chased down a car of speeding teenagers while shaking a brick at them, never once interrupting the conversation or setting down her margarita. The only reason this woman isn't president of General Motors is because she's chosen not to be.

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.

Although I get a lot of specialty services like wraps, scrubs, and mustache removal, my favorite is the simple manicure/pedicure. They work on your hands and feet at the same time while you sit in a vibrating chair. I call it the sorority girls version of a threesome.

Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Why did Hades go after her?” he asked in a low voice, his lips still brushing her face. She barely managed to keep breathing. “He must have loved her,” she whispered. Adam’s response emerged breathless. “He must have.

Really? If I could hate my trainer? That would be ideal. I'd prefer to despise this person with the fire of ten thousand suns. So when I walk - nay, crawl - out of here at the end of my workouts, I want to lull myself to sleep by picturing my very talented and inspirational trainer getting hit by a bus. A bus that I am driving.

He actually winked at Persephone as if to say, “I told you.” “You had better be suffering from an uncontrollable muscle tic,” Adam grumbled, still seemingly concentrating on the food on his plate. “Completely uncontrollable.” Harry’s smile belied his words. “Good. Otherwise I would think you were just winking at my wife.

The living room is a monument to my impulsive spending habits. I've got more than two hundred DVDs, including cinematic greats such as Monkey Bone, Corkey Romano, and A Night at the Roxbury, leading me to believe not only do I have awful taste in films, but I also have a Chris Kattan fixation. What I don't have is $4000 earing intrest in a money market account.

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)

As I paddle along, I slowly become aware that it's been fear keeping me out of this pool for so many years. I never came here before because I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself by not having the endurance to complete a lap. The swimming wasn't what scared me; failure was. My fear locked me in a state of arrested development for so many years. Fear kept me from tackling my weight, which I understand has simply been symptomatic of my greater fear, growing up. I glide down the lane on my back and reflect on how good I feel right now. It's not because I've lost more than thirty pounds. I feel incredible because I've stopped being afraid.

This is a Lucent PBX with Audix voice mail, right? I used this kind at all of my old jobs, so I'm pretty familiar with them." Completely ignoring me, Pat continues to demonstrate every single one of the phone's features, half of which she describes incorrectly. I don't bother taking notes because I've used this system a thousand times. I have no need to transcribe an erroneous refresher course. "Hey, you should be writing this down." Like I said, I've used this system extensively and--" WRITE IT DOWN," Pat growls. "If you screw up the phone, Jerry's gonna be on my ass." No problem." I'm slowly learning to choose my battles and figure this isn't the hill I want to die on. I pull a portfolio out of my briefcase and begin to take notes. When the phone rings and Jerry isn't there to answer, you pick it up and hold it to your mouth like this. You say, 'Hello, Jerry Jenkins' office.'" I write: When phone rings, place receiver next to your word hole and not your hoo-hoo or other bodily aperature, and say, "Shalom.

(Jen gets completely sloshed and it's not her wedding) I was supposed to meet Carol and her family at the aquarium the next morning, and somehow had the presence of mind to leave a voicemail apologizing in advance for not being able to make it. I was please at myself for being so responsible and considerate. After I left the message, I blissfully headed off to bed, wearing a face full of makeup, all my grown up jewelry, and a relatively restrictive girdle. Suffice it to say, yesterday was rough, what with my apartment spinning and all. But today I felt better. That is, until Carol played me the voice mail I left for her at 1:03 AM. Somehow I thought I had been able to hold it together on the phone. Following is a transcript of the message I left: 30 seconds of heavy breathing, giggling, and intermittent hiccups (At first Carol thought it was a 911 call.) Oh, heeheehee, I waassshh wayyyting for a beep. But noooooo beeeeeeep. Why don't you hash a beep on your, your, ummmmmm...celery phone? Noooooo beeeeeeep, hic, heeheeeheee. Um, hiiiiii, itsch JEENNNNNNNN!! It's thirteen o'clock in the peeeeeee eeeemmmmmmm. Heeeeeeeellllllllllloooooooo! I went to my wedding tonight and it wash sooooo niiiiiiiiiice. Hic." More giggling and the sound of a phone being dropped and retrieved Nannyway, I am calling to telllll you noooooooooo fishies tomorry...no fishies for meeee! I hic, heeeee, can't smake it to the quariyummm. Maybeeee you can call me so I can say HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII later hich in the day hee hee hee. Call me at, um, 312, ummmmmmm, 312, uummmmm, hee hee hee I can't member my phone, Hic. Do you know my number? Can you call me and tell me what it isssch? I LIKESH TURKEY SAMMICHES! 10 seconds of chewing, giggling, and what may be gobbling sounds Okay, GGGGGGGGooooooodniiiiiiiiiggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhttttt! No fish! Um, how do I turn this tthing off? Shhhhh, callllls' over. Beeee quiiiiiiietttt, hee hee hee." 15 more seconds of giggles, hiccups, shushing, and a great deal of banging Perhaps this is why most people only have one wedding?