“It is so hard to learn to put sadness in perspective so hard to understand that it is a feeling that comes in degrees, it can be a candle burning gently and harmlessly in your home, or it can be a full-fledged forest fire that destroy almost everything and is controlled by almost nothing. It can also be so much in-between”—(via kwinhdom)
Every time I read this novel (which is my favorite John Green novel by the way) and I get to the bit where Hollis is trying to explain to Lindsay about what’s happening with the company and what she’s been trying to do. Hollis’ compassion moves me and I think the same thing.
I think: The world of literature is filled with amazing, compassionate people. I can only hope that their reality counterparts exist, somewhere on this Earth.
I hope there’s a woman like Hollis out there in the world. We need more people like her.
“How you matter is defined by the things that matter to you. You matter as much as the things that matter to you do. And I got so backwards, trying to make myself matter to him. All the time, there were real things to care about: real, good, people who care about me, and this place. It’s so easy to get stuck. You just get caught in being something, being special or cool or whatever, to the point where you don’t even know why you need it; you just think you do.”—John Green, An Abundance of Katherines
So Ty gets home in about 20 minutes! Stoked! And we’re going to pull an all nighter! My msn isnt working which sucks poo, but I’ve figured out a way around it! I had fun with Rochelle and Anika today :) They are two crazy girls!
Looking forward to the sleep over. You better not let me down! :P
I’m reading over your shoulders, it says it in every line, in ever curve and crack. It says it in every detail of your face, unmistakably apparent in this dull light. Tracing a separate letter, forming a separate word. Twisting together to build the same beautiful message, the same painful realization. The cracks in your lips open with the books and the smile shows the lines in your face. Perfectly crooked, and perfectly familiar.
And for the moment, uncovered like a statue— lay perfectly still. To show the cracks in your lips. Give purpose to this pattern and start to smile. Burst into flames, disappear before your best intentions can no longer hide her ears from that which will make them bleed. Before your own two hands become too weak to hold the blood inside her wounds. Before reality explodes before you in a brilliant flash of spectral fires, into a thousand fragments of a past, long dead and gone.
This is remembering the last time we spoke, the last time we touched, words ricocheting off of empty tables. Vandalizing the pictures on these smoke-stained walls and I can hear your mouth as it opens from across the room. Your tongue and lips forming the shape of your laughter, its the curve of your stomach, its the bend in your legs. It’s the remnants of the pages framed in the cracks of your bleeding lips, it’s the curve of your stomach, its the bend in your legs. Your crooked teeth.
I’m reading over your shoulder, it says it in every line, in every curve and crack— the same stupid message in every stupid bend and in every stupid stitch, in every inch of our peeling skin. It’s tracing letters in the same sentence, it’s screaming the same stupid thing, like the howling of a plane playing over and over and over and over and over…
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart