“Walt Whitman is HOT! I mean, that guy could sound his barbaric yawps over the roofs of my world any time.”

“I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”

“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”

“I could be worse, you know.""How?" I asked, teasing. "I mean, I have a work of calligraphy over my toilet that reads, 'Bathe yourself in the comfort of God's words,' Hazel. I could be way worse.""Sounds unsanitary," I said.”

“I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.”

“I'll write you an epilogue, I will, I will. Better than any shit that drunk could write. His brain is Swiss cheese. He doesn't even remember writing the book. I can write ten times the story that guy can. There will be blood and guts and sacrifice. An Imperial Affliction meets The Price of Dawn. You'll love it.”

“According to the conventions of the genre, Augustus Waters kept his sense of humor till the end, did not for a moment waiver in his courage, and his spirit soared like an indomitable eagle until the world itself could not contain his joyous soul.But this is the truth, a pitiful boy who desperately wanted not to be pitiful, screaming and crying, poisoned by an infected G-tube that kept him alive, but not alive enough.I wiped his chin and grabbed his face in my hands and knelt down close to him so that I could see his eyes, which still lived. 'I'm sorry. I wish it was like that movie, with the Persians and the Spartans.''Me too,' he said.'But it isn't,' I said.'I know,' he said.'There are no bad guys.''Yeah.''Even cancer isn't a bad guy really: Cancer just wants to be alive.”