The Fault In Our Stars (n) A book that you could literally throw at anyone’s face and it wouldn’t hurt as much as the story.
This is the first book that broke my heart, literally, cause it’s the first book I’ve read. This was perfectly written that you wouldn’t have any idea that the guy you fell in love with, the guy you thought will be the last man standing, will die at the end of the story AND that the book will hurtfully ends with the word “OK“.
My favorite part of the book was Hazel’s and Isaac’s eulogy for Augustus. Isn’t it heart breaking when someone delivered their eulogy while you’re still alive? You know, world is just so ironic that people get to express their love in words when you’re gone.
Augustus Waters is a self-aggrandizing bastard. But we forgive him. We forgive him not because he had a heart as figuratively good as his literal one sucked, or because he knew more about how to hold a cigarette than any nonsmoker in history, or because he got eighteen years when he should of gotten more. I’m telling you Augustus Waters talked so much about him that he’d interrupt you at his ow 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 from the future show up at my house with robot eyes and tell me to try them on, I will tell them to screw off because I do not want to see a world without him. And then, having made my rhetorical point, I will put on my robot eyes on , because I mean, with robot eyes you can probably see through girls shorts and stuff. Augustus, my friend, Godspeed.
My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won’t be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because like all real love stories, it will die with us. As it should. I’d hoped that he’d be eulogizing me, because there is no one I’d rather have. I can’t talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this. There is an infinite between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many days of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You have me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.