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Quote by John Green

Work

The Fault in Our Stars

This novel delves into the profound relationship between two teenagers, Hazel and Gus, who share a rare cancer diagnosis. Their journey is marked by humor, heartache, and the search for meaning in a world that often seems unfair. more

Author

John Green
John Green

John Green is an American author known for his young adult literature. His works often explore themes such as adolescence, love, family, and identity, and have gained popularity among young readers. Green's books have won numerous literary awards and have become bestsellers. more

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“There is a wide yawning black infinity. In every direction the extension is endless, the sensation of depth is overwhelming. And the darkness is immortal. Where light exists, it is pure, blazing, fierce; but light exists almost nowhere, and the blackness itself is also pure and blazing and fierce. But most of all, there is very nearly nothing in the dark; except for little bits here and there, often associated with the light, this infinite receptacle is empty. This picture is strangely frightening. It should be familiar. It is our universe. Even these stars, which seem so numerous, are, as sand, as dust, or less than dust, in the enormity of the space in which there is nothing. Nothing! We are not without empathetic terror when we open Pascal’s Pensées and read, 'I am the great silent spaces between worlds.' [From an undated, handwritten piece of text from the early 1950s which Sagan wrote when he was an undergraduate at the University of Chicago]”

LightScienceUniverseStarsSpaceSilentDepthTerrorAstronomyEndlessGreatImmortalInfinityFrighteningNothingBlacknessPascalEnormityBlaise Pascal
Author:Carl Sagan
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“At first I couldn't see anything. I fumbled along the cobblestone street. I lit a cigarette. Suddenly the moon appeared from behind a black cloud, lighting a white wall that was crumbled in places. I stopped, blinded by such whiteness. Wind whistled slightly. I breathed the air of the tamarinds. The night hummed, full of leaves and insects. Crickets bivouacked in the tall grass. I raised my head: up there the stars too had set up camp. I thought that the universe was a vast system of signs, a conversation between giant beings. My actions, the cricket's saw, the star's blink, were nothing but pauses and syllables, scattered phrases from that dialogue. What word could it be, of which I was only a syllable? Who speaks the word? To whom is it spoken? I threw my cigarette down on the sidewalk. Falling, it drew a shining curve, shooting out brief sparks like a tiny comet. I walked a long time, slowly. I felt free, secure between the lips that were at that moment speaking me with such happiness. The night was a garden of eyes.”

NightUniverseLanguageStarsCosmos
Book:The Blue Bouquet
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