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Sunday, January 13, 2013 1:09 AM
The Fault in Our Stars

Okay so I was reading The Fault in Our Stars by John Green and finally finished the book yesterday! *OVERWHELMING FEELS* I love the novel so freaking much and it's all thanks to Jessica that I decided to read the book ahsjdkhkd

So anyway, for those who haven't read the book and bothering to read this post, the story's about a 16-year-old girl named Hazel Grace Lancaster who has stage 4 thyroid cancer. She hasn't been to school for about 3 years or so and her mum wants her to get a life and cheer up or something so she made her go to some support group for cancer patients. During one of the sessions, Hazel met a (cute) guy named Augustus Waters. Augustus has cancer and one of his legs has been amputated (yea kinda sad cuz he was a great basketball player). Um this is gonna sound cheesy but yea they felt attraction for each other almost at first sight (I think?) and managed to bond over Hazel's favourite book called "An Imperial Affliction". Eventually they went to Amsterdam to meet the book's author and also, finally getting together (as in, BGR) during the trip.

...sorry I suck at giving summaries lol

But anyway... the book's great because of the way the author wrote it? Well I just like it ugh idk. It's funny and at the same time it's just so sad ;-; I love how people calls Hazel "Hazel" while Augustus called her "Hazel Grace" it feels special, and you can feel that he really loved her.

So anyway, here are some of the parts I like in the book
"I would give up all the sick days I had left for a few healthy ones. I tried to tell myself that it could be worse, that the world was not a wish-granting factory, that I was living with cancer not dying of it, that I mustn't let it kill me before it kills me"
"But why?" I asked. "I mean, seriously: How did scrambled eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusively? You can put bacon on a sandwich without anyone freaking out. But the moment your sandwich has an egg, boom, it's a breakfast sandwich."
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.
"I'm telling you," Isaac continued, "Augustus Waters talked so much that he'd interrupt you at his own funeral. And he was pretentious: Sweet Jesus Christ, that kid never took a piss without pondering the abundant metaphorical resonances of human waste production. And he was vain: I do not believe I have ever met a more physically attractive person who was more acutely aware of his own physical attractiveness.
"But I will say this: When the scientists of the future show up at my house with robot eyes and they tell me to try them on, I will tell the scientists to screw off, because I do not want to see a world without him."
The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters's death was Augustus Waters.
Writing does not resurrect. It buries.
"He loved you so much," Gus's mom said. "He really did. It wasn't—it wasn't puppy love or anything," she added, as if I didn't already know that.

...and a lot more okay I got lazy this is too sad agdsjdhaskd bye