“Yes, it's difficult to ascertain whether he is trying to arouse her or perform a breast exam.”

“Imagine taking that last drive to the hospital," I said quietly. "The last time you'll ever drive a car."Without looking over at me, Augustus said, "You're killing my vibe here, Hazel Grace. I'm trying to observe young love in it's many-splendored awkwardness.""I think he's hurting her boob," I said."Yes it's difficult to ascertain whether he is trying to arouse her or perform a breast exam.”

“His hand reached for her boob over her shirt and pawed at it, his palm still while his fingers moved around. I wondered if that felt good. Didn't seem like it would, but I decided to forgive Isaac on the grounds that he was going blind. The senses must feast while there is yet hunger and whatever."I think he's hurting her boob," I said."Yes, it's difficult to ascertain whether he is trying to arouse her or perform a breast exam.”

“She has great breasts," the Colonel said without looking up from the whale."DO NOT OBJECTIFY WOMEN'S BODIES!" Alaska shouted.Now he looked up. "Sorry. Perky breasts.""That's not any better!”

“Her underwear, her jeans, the comforter, my corduroys and my boxers between us, I thought. Five layers, and yet I felt it, the nervous warmth of touching – a pale reflection of the fireworks of one mouth on another, but a reflection nonetheless. And in the almostness of the moment, I cared at least enough. I wasn’t sure whether I liked her, and doubted whether I could trust her, but I cared at least enough to try to find out. Her on my bed, wide green eyes staring down at me. The enduring mystery of her sly, almost smirking, smile. Five layers between us.”

“He walked over to Isaac and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Dude, pillows don’t break. Try something that breaks.”Isaac reached for a basketball trophy from the shelf above the bed and then held it over his head as if waiting for permission.“Yes,” Augustus said. “Yes!” The trophy smashed against the floor, the plastic basketball player’s arm splintering off, still grasping its ball. Isaac stomped on the trophy.“Yes!” Augustus said. “Get it!” And then back to me, “I’ve been looking for a way to tell my father that I actually sort of hate basketball, and I think we’ve found it.”

“I didn't know whether to feel angry at her for making me part of her suicide or just to feel angry at myself for letting her go.”