“That doesn't sound like my Margo", she said, and I thought of my Margo, and all of us looking at her reflection in different funhouse mirrors.”
Quote Analysis
In this quote from John Green's novel, the speaker's mother expresses surprise at a character's behavior, leading the speaker to reflect on the complex nature of his perception of the character. The mention of "funhouse mirrors" highlights the idea that different people see the same person in different ways, emphasizing the subjective nature of perception. This quote speaks to the theme of perspective and the multifaceted nature of human relationships.
Exploring the Perception of Others
In this quote from John Green's novel, the speaker reflects on how individuals can have different perceptions of the same person. Just like how people see varying reflections of someone in different funhouse mirrors, our views of others can be distorted or altered by our own biases and experiences. This message is particularly relevant in today's society, where social media and technology often shape our perceptions of others.
John Green's examples of usage in "Paper Towns"
In the novel "Paper Towns" by John Green, the protagonist reflects on the different perspectives people have of his friend Margo. In a poignant moment, he realizes that everyone sees her in their own unique way, like looking at her reflection in different funhouse mirrors.
Reflection Questions:
When thinking about the quote from John Green's novel, "That doesn't sound like my Margo", what do you think the character means by this statement? Why do you think the concept of looking at someone's reflection in different funhouse mirrors is used in this passage? How does this quote make you reflect on your own experiences with perception and relationships with others?
Similar quotes
“And all at once I knew how Margo Roth Spiegelman felt when she wasn't being Margo Roth Spiegelman: she felt empty. She felt the unscaleable wall surrounding her. I thought of her asleep on the carpet with only that jagged sliver of sky above her. Maybe Margo felt comfortable there because Margo the person lived like that all the time: in an abandoned room with blocked-out windows, the only light pouring in through holes in the roof. Yes. The fundamental mistake I had always made—and that she had, in fairness, always led me to make—was this: Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.”
“A Margo for each of us--and each more mirror than window.”
“I couldn’t figure out which of these ideas, if any, was at the core of the poem. But thinking about the grass and all the different ways you could se it made me think about all the ways I’d seen and mis-seen Margo. There was no shortage of ways to see her. I’d been focused on what had become of her, but now with my head trying to understand the multiplicity of grass and her smell from the blanket still in my throat, I realized that the most important question was who I was looking for. If “What is the grass?” has such a complicated answer, I thought, so, too, must “Who is Margo Roth Spiegelman?” Like a metaphor rendered incomprehensible by its ubiquity, there was room enough in what she had left me for endless imaginings, for an infinite set of Margos.”
“My heart is really pounding," I said."That's how you know you're having fun," Margo said.”
“...I looked for a scrape in my reflection and then, meeting my own eyes, stood for a sec and tried to figure, like all girls in all mirrors everywhere, the difference between lover and slut.”