I hated being careful, too - or wanted to, at least.
I hated being careful, too - or wanted to, at least.
I'm really not up for answering any questions that start with how, when, where, why or what.
No woman should ever lie about another woman. You've violated the sacred covenant between women! How will stabbing one another in the back help women to rise above patriarchal oppression?
The snow may be falling in the winter of my discontent, but at least I've got sarcastic company.
Why would you try to kill this guy, Kevin? He's a genius. Nuts to your truce.
Ben's tongue is like sunscreen...It's good for your health and should be applied liberally.
I know it's impossible for you to see your peers this way, but when you're older, you start to see them--the bad kids and the good kids and all kids--as people. They're just people, who deserve to be cared for.
It's easy to like someone from a distance. But when she stopped being this amazing unattainable thing or whatever, and started being, like, just a regular girl with a weird relationship with food and frequent crankiness wh's kind of bossy--then I had to basically start liking a while different person.
She had the kind of fingers you want to interlace with your own.
The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle.
A drink this good deserves one's best posture.
Come over here so I can examine your face with my hands and see deeper into your soul than a sighted person ever could.
I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.
I'll give you my strength if I can have your remission.
Of course I tensed up when he touched me. To be with him was to hurt him-inevitably. And that's what I'd felt as he reached for me: I'd felt as though I were committing an act of violence against him, because I was.
Support Group featured a rotating cast of characters in various states of tumor-driven unwellness. Why did the cast rotate? A side effect of dying.
The urge to make art or contemplate philosophy does not go away when you are sick. Those urges just become transfigured by illness.
Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.
And I vaguely remember her smiling at me from the door way the glittering ambiguity of a girls smile, which seems to promise an answer to the question, but never gives it. The question, the one we've all been asking since girls stopped being gross, the question that is to simple to be uncomplicated: Does she like me or does she LIKE me?
But it was only hot outside, and generally I only walked outside between one air-conditioned place to another.
I hated cranberry sauce, but for some reason my mom persisted in her lifelong belief that it was my very favorite food, even though every single Thanksgiving I politely declined to include it on my plate.
I'm sorry. I know you loved her. It was hard not to.
Not the brightest gem in the jewelry shop, but you've got to admire his single-minded dedication to drug abuse.
The times that were most fun seemed always to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when she was with us that we realized how utterly gone she was.
You can say a lot of bad things about Alabama, but you can't say that Alabamans as a people are duly afraid of deep fryers.
But as for me: I must ask the wounded man where he is hurt, because I cannot become the wounded man. The only wounded man I can be is me.
I smiled. She smiled. I believed the smile.
It's so hard for anyone to show us how we look, and so hard for us to show anyone how we feel.
She is close enough to me that I can see her, because even now there is the outward sign of visible light, even at night in this parking lot on the outskirts of Algoe. After we kiss, our foreheads touch as we stare at each other. Yes, I can see her almost perfectly in this cracked darkness.
This was the first time in my life that so many things would never happen again.
Agustus asked if I wanted to go with him to Support Group, but I was really tired from my busy day of Having Cancer, so I passed.
Don't worry. Worry is useless. I worried anyway
I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
If we'd put them in a vase in the living room, they would have been everyone's flowers. I wanted them to be my flowers.
Oh, I wouldn't mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.
Take a picture of this so Isaac can see it when they invent robot eyes.
The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them, even though they contain most of our lives. I wondered if that was sort of the point of architecture.
While I did not fancy myself a particularly good person, I never thought my first real sexual action would be prostitutional.
And I wrote my way out of the labyrinth.
C'mon Pudge. I'm teasing. You have to be tough. I didn't know how bad it was-- and I'm sorry, and they'll regret it-- but you have to be tough.
I hated sports. I hated sports, and I hated people who played them, and I hated people who watched them, and I hated people who didn't hate people who watched or played them.
In the beginning, she had hauted me, haunted my dreams, but even now, just weeks later, she was slipping away, falling apart in my memory and everyone else's, dying again.
Not to ask the obvious question, but why Alaska?
There are always answers. We just have to be smart enough.
You can say a lot of things about Alabama, but you can't say that Alabamans as a people are unduly afraid of deep fryers.
But I was not in the band, because I suffer from the kind of tone deafness that is generally associated with actual deafness
I spy with my little eye a great story.
I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters.
She loved mysteries so much that she became one.
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.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories