John Green
John Green
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth24 August 1977
CountryUnited States of America
mean drunk guy
Yeah, so if that guy can make it in drunk, surely we can make it in sober. I mean, we’re ninjas.' 'Well, maybe you’re a ninja,' I said. 'You’re just a really loud, awkward ninja,' Margo said, 'but we are both ninjas.
beer drivers
By the power of the superglue beer sword, I designate you my driver!
twenties remember minutes
Remember that time in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, when we didn't die?
roots broken guy
I have never really thought of him as a person, either.... A guy whose strings were broken, who didn’t feel the root of his leaves of grass connected to the field, a guy who was cracked. Like me.
shopping world paper
But before we can radically reshape the world, we need to shop.
towns places-you-go paper
This was not a place you go to live. It was a place you go to die."- Paper Towns
moving sleep blow
As I followed Margo's directions through the maze of one-way streets, we saw a few people sleeping on the sidewalk or sitting on benches, but nobody was moving. Margo rolled down the window, and I felt the thick air blow across my face, warmer than night ought to be. I glanced over and saw strands of her hair blowing all around her face. Even though I could see her there, I felt entirely alone among these big and empty buildings, like I'd survived the apocalypse and the world had been given to me, this whole and amazing and endless world, mine for the exploring.
hate mean judging
You know what I hate? The outdoors. I mean, generally. I don't like outside. I'm an inside person. I'm all about refrigeration and indoor plumbing and Judge Judy.
eye men house
You just gotta tell her, man,’ I said. ‘You just gotta say, “Angela, I really like you, but there’s something you need to know: when we go to my house and hook up, we’ll be watched by the twenty-four hundred eyes of twelve hundred black Santas.
morning weekend night
And since she drove to work every morning, I could only use the car on weekends. Well, weekends and the middle of the goddamned night.
dream children long
Those of us who frequent the band room have long suspected that Becca maintains her lovely figure by eating nothing but the souls of kittens and the dreams of impoverished children.
fun struggle thinking
I don't think pandemics make us afraid of death, I think they make us afraid of oblivion. They force us to grapple with the futility of effort. Also they make us barf which isn't fun either... Wash your hands, cover your coughs, and find a way to hold in balance the futility of effort with the necessity to struggle.
ashes said garage
Ashes to ashes. Garage sale to garage sale,” I said.
listening strategy social
I said nothing—I hadn’t known Marya, and anyway, “listening quietly” was my general social strategy