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. And then there are book which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

The Fault In Our Stars - John Green

(via yourtruthisimportant)

My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed.

Hazel Grace Lancaster

(via marymacdonald)

It was kind of a beautiful day, finally real summer in Indianapolis, warm and humid— the kind of weather that reminds you after a long winter that while the world wasn’t built for humans, we were built for the world.

“The Fault in Our Stars” (John Green)

(I briefly wanted to call the book It Was Kind of a Beautiful Day, but Julie convinced me I was insane.)

(via fishingboatproceeds)