The Fault in Our Stars Hazel Grace Lancaster Quotes

I went to Support Group for the same reason that I'd once allowed nurses with a mere eighteen months of graduate education to poison me with exotically named chemicals: I wanted to make my parents happy. (1.28)

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. (5.135)

I hated hurting him. Most of the time, I could forget about it, but the inexorable truth is this: They might be glad to have me around, but I was the alpha and the omega of my parents' suffering. (8.15)

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." (8.16)

I hadn't gotten to know his half sisters, really, but they both hugged me anyway. Julie was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to a secret Gus in precisely the same voice you would use to tell an infant he was adorable (19.19)

I just kind of crawled across the couch into her lap and my dad came over and held my legs really tight and I wrapped my arms all the way around my mom's middle and they held on to me for hours while the tide rolled in. (21.30)

I hadn't been in 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. (1.62)

But three years removed from proper full-time schoolic exposure to my peers, I felt a certain unbridgeable distance between us. I think my school friends wanted to help me through my cancer, but they eventually found out that they couldn't. (3.61)

"Well, to be fair," I said. "I mean, she probably can't handle it. Neither can you, but she doesn't have to handle it. And you do." (4.91)

That was the worst part about having cancer, sometimes: The physical evidence of disease separates you from other people. (10.58)

But this was the truth, a pitiful boy who desperately wanted not to be pitiful, screaming and crying (18.28)

It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before. (21.6)

The dead air on the line was so eerie. I just wanted to go back to that secret post-terrestrial third space with him that we visited when we talked on the phone. (21.10)

I almost felt like he was there in my room with me, but in a way it was better, like I was not in my room and he was not in his, but instead we were together in some invisible and tenuous third space (5.67)

As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. (8.75)

[…] and then thinking that Anne Frank, after all, kissed someone in the Anne Frank House, and that she would probably like nothing more than for her home to have become a place where the young and irreparably broken sink into live. (12.185)

[…] and only now that I loved a grenade did I understand the foolishness of trying to save others from my own impending fragmentation: I couldn't unlove Augustus Waters. And I didn't want to. (13.34)

"My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life." (20.58)

I'd learned this from my aforementioned third best friend, Peter Van Houten, the reclusive author of An Imperial Affliction, the book that was as close a thing as I had to a Bible. (1.65)

Maybe some people need to believe in a proper and omnipotent God to pray, but I don't. (12.174)