90+ Quotes From Fault In Our Stars And Sayings

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I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.

Sometimes people don’t understand the promises they’re making when they make them,

You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you.

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.

Quotes From Fault In Our Stars

Good friends are hard to find and impossible to forget.

You are so busy being you that you have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are.

I’d always thought the world was a wish-granting factory.

Augustus nodded at the screen. ‘Pain demands to be felt,’ he said, which was a line from An Imperial Affliction.

Oh, I wouldn’t mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.

I’m on a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend.

Thank you for explaining that my eye cancer isn’t going to make me deaf. I feel so fortunate that an intellectual giant like yourself would deign to operate on me.

You realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affection for you.

Everyone was so kind. Strong, too. In the darkest days, the Lord puts the best people into your life.

The marks humans leave are too often scars.

The world is not a wish-granting factory.

‘Sometimes people don’t understand the promises they’re making when they make them,’ I said.

Tell me my copy is missing the last twenty pages or something.

But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

What a slut time is. She screws everybody.

Hazel Grace, tell me I have not reached the end of this book.

Oh, I wouldn’t mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.

I’m on a roller coaster that only goes up. And it is my privilege and my responsibility to ride all the way up with you.

That was the worst part about having cancer, sometimes: The physical evidence of disease separates you from other people.

You have a choice in this world, I believe, about how to tell sad stories, and we made a funny choice.

That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence

You say you’re not special because the world doesn’t know about you, but that’s an insult to me. I know about you.

If you don’t live a life in service of a greater good, you’ve gotta at least die a death in service of a greater good, you know?

There is no shortage of fault to be found amid our stars.

Maybe some people need to believe in a proper and omnipotent God to pray, but I don’t.

But it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves.

Like most book lovers, I love a book quote about books. And there are a few to admire in The Fault in Our Stars.

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

It occurred to me that the reason my parents had no money was me. I’d sapped the family savings with Phalanxifor copays, and Mom couldn’t work because she had taken on the full-time profession of Hovering Over Me.

Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.

Our fearlessness shall be our secret weapon.

And then there are books…so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

I hadn’t been in a proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed.

My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life.

I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things.

Patience, grasshopper, I counseled. You don’t want to seem overeager.

But it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he has Cassius note, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves.

But you don’t even have my phone number,

If the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.

And okay, fair enough, but there is this unwritten contract between author and reader and I think not ending your book kind of violates that contract.

People talk about the courage of cancer patients, and I do not deny that courage. I have been poked and stabbed and poisoned for years, and still, I trod on.

I strongly suspect you wrote it in this book.

All your attempts to save yourself from me will fail.

Some infinities are bigger than others infinities… But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence.

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth, it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.

You say you’re not special because the world doesn’t know about you, but that’s an insult to me. I know about you.

I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things.

Observation: It would be awesome to fly in a super fast airplane that could chase the sunrise around the world for a while.

I’m a grenade I said again. I just want to stay away from people and read books and think.

It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.

I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should.

The only person I wanted to talk to about Augustus Water’s death was Augustus Waters.

And I fear that I won’t get either a life or a death that means anything.

One of the less bullshitty conventions of the cancer kid genre is the Last Good Day convention

It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.

Sure, I fear earthly oblivion. But, I mean, not to sound like my parents, but I believe humans have souls, and I believe in the conservation of souls.

I’m a grenade and at some point, I’m going to blow up and I would like to minimize the casualties, okay?

I fell in love with the way you fall asleep. A little than all at once.

I wanted to know that he would be okay if I died. I wanted to not be a grenade, to not be a malevolent force in the lives of people I loved.

If you don’t live a life in service of a greater good, you’ve gotta at least die a death in service of a greater good, you know? And I fear that I won’t get either a life or a death that means anything.

I used to think that it would be fun to live in a cloud.

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

I’ve gotten hot since you went blind.

I thought being an adult meant knowing what you believe, but that has not been my experience.

The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people noticing things, and paying attention.

‘Tragedy, that. But can I help my deadly beauty?’

Oh, I wouldn’t mind Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.

Come over here so I can examine your face with my hands and see deeper into your soul than a sighted person ever could.

We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.

I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten.

It is my burden, this beautiful face.

Books are so special and rare that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.

I’ll fight it, I’ll fight it for you. Don’t you worry about me, Hazel Grace, I’m okay. I’ll find a way to hang around and annoy you for a long time.

As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

Ours was an epic love story, and I won’t be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears.

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

I take quite a lot of pride in not knowing what’s cool.

Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life.

The world went on, as it does, without my full participation, and I only woke up from the reverie when someone said my name.

Peter Van Houten was the only person I’d ever come across who seemed to (a) understand what it’s like to be dying, and (b) not have died.

I had a moral opposition to eating before dawn because I was not a nineteenth-century Russian peasant fortifying myself for a day in the fields.

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.

You’re arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that’s a lie, and you know it.

I’ve always liked people with two names because you get to make up your mind what you call them: Gus or Augustus?

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