It's more impressive," I said out loud. "From a distance, I mean. You can't see the wear on things, you know? You can't see the rust or the weeds or the paint cracking. You see the place as someone once imagined it.
John GreenTag: looks paper-towns
Do you guys remember that one time, in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, that we somehow didn't die?
John GreenTag: paper-towns
How can you seperate those things though? The people are the place is the people.
John GreenTag: paper-towns
At some point, you gotta stop looking up at the sky, or one of these days you'll look back down and see that you floated away, too.
John GreenTag: paper-towns
A Margo for each of us--and each more mirror than window.
John GreenTag: john-green paper-towns margo
The fundamental mistake I had always made - and that she had, in fairness, always led me to make - was this: Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.
John GreenTag: john-green paper-towns
Getting you a date to prom is so hard that the hypothetical idea itself is actually used to cut diamonds," I added. Radar tapped a locker twice with his fist to show his approval, and then came back with another. "Ben, getting you a date to prom is so hard that the American government believes the problem cannot be solved with diplomacy, but will instead require force.
John GreenTag: humor boys dating high-school prom john-green paper-towns
I leave, and the leaving is so exhilarating I know I can never go back. But then what? Do I just keep leaving places, and leaving them, and leaving them, tramping a perpetual journey?
John GreenTag: sad leaving john-green paper-towns
My heart is really pounding," I said.
"That's how you know you're having fun," Margo said.
Tag: john-green paper-towns margo-roth-spiegelman quentin-jacobsen
Standing before this building, I learn something about fear. I learn that it is not the idle fantasies of someone who maybe wants something important to happen to him, even if the important thing is horrible. It is not the disgust of seeing a dead stranger, and not the breathlessness of hearing a shotgun pumped outside of Becca Arrington’s house. This cannot be addressed by breathing exercises. This fear bears no analogy to any fear I knew before. This is the basest of all possible emotions, the feeling that was with us before we existed, before this building existed, before the earth existed. This is the fear that made fish crawl onto dry land and evolve lungs, the fear that teaches us to run, the fear that makes us bury our dead.
John GreenTag: fear paper-towns
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