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The town was paper, but the memories were not.

John Green

He liked the mere act of reading, the magic of turning scratches on a page into words inside his head.
JOHN GREEN

Act Head Inside Magic Page Reading
Writing is something you do alone. It’s a profession for introverts who wanna tell you a story but don’t wanna make eye contact while telling it
JOHN GREEN

Alone Introvert Profession Writing
What a slut time is. She screws everybody.
JOHN GREEN

Screw She Time
You can love someone so much but you can never love people as much as you can miss them.
JOHN GREEN

Love Missing People
What you must understand about me is that I’m a deeply unhappy person.
JOHN GREEN

Broken Heart Person Understand Unhappy
The urge to make art or contemplate philosophy does not go away when you are sick. Those urges just become transfigured by illness.
JOHN GREEN

Art Complete Ill Philosophy Sick Urge
Love is keeping the promise anyway.
JOHN GREEN

Love One Liner Promise
There is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.
JOHN GREEN

Die Glory Honor Ill
Without pain, how could we know joy?
JOHN GREEN

Joy Life One Liner Pain
When you acknowledge that there is nothing repulsive or unforgivable or shameful about yourself, it becomes easier to be that authentic person and feel like you’re living a less performed life.
JOHN GREEN

Acknowledge Authentic Forgiveness Life Performance Person Shame Yourself
Great books help you understand, and they help you feel understood.
JOHN GREEN

Book Help Understand
You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.
JOHN GREEN

Bury Death Language Lost Mortal Writing
You cannot invent an algorithm that is as good at recommending books as a good bookseller.
JOHN GREEN

Algorithm Book Invention
When I look at my room, I see a girl who loves books.
JOHN GREEN

Book Girl Look Love Room
You are so busy being you that you have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are.
JOHN GREEN

Busy Ideas Yourself
Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.
JOHN GREEN

Infinite One Liner

The town was paper, but the memories were not.

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The town was paper, but the memories were not.

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