Best 95 quotes in «paper towns quotes» category

On some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are.

On time for us was thirty minutes before actually started, because the half hour before the first bell was the highlight of our social calendars: standing outside the side door that led into the band room and just talking.

Para mi habías sido como un chico de papel todos estos años… Dos dimensiones como personaje en el papel, y otras dos dimensiones diferentes, pero también planas, como persona.

People I don't know die all the time. If I had a nervous breakdown every time something awful happened in the world I'd be crazier than a shithouse rat.

Porque é o máximo ser uma ideia que agrada a todos. Mas eu nunca poderia ser aquela ideia para mim, não totalmente.

Physical space between us evaporates. We play the broken strings of our instruments one last time

Por un momento siento un destello de esperanza al pensar en el último verso del poema: «En alguna parte te espero». Pero luego pienso que esa primera persona no tiene por qué ser una persona. También puede ser un cuerpo.

Porque es genial ser una idea que a todo el mundo le gusta. Pero no podía ser la idea de mí misma, no del todo.

Que engañoso creer que una persona es algo más que una persona.

Que el lodo sea mi heredero, quiero crecer del pasto que amo; Si quieres encontrarte conmigo, búscame bajo la suela de tus zapatos.

She loved so much misteries tha she became one

Se colocó el pelo detrás de las orejas, se puso la capucha y se la ató con el cordón. El farol iluminó los agudos rasgos de su cara pálida. Quizá los dos éramos ninjas, pero sólo ella lo parecía.

Recuerda que algunas veces las personas no son como crees que son.

Siempre había creído que había que ser importante para tener enemigos. Por ejemplo: históricamente, Alemania ha tenido más enemigos que Luxemburgo. Margo Roth Spiegelman era Alemania. Y Gran Bretaña. Y Estados Unidos. Y la Rusia de los zares. Yo soy Luxemburgo. Me siento por ahí, vigilo las ovejas y canto canciones tirolesas

Siempre esperas que la gente no sea quien es.

Siempre me han gustado las rutinas. Supongo que aburrirme nunca me había aburrido demasiado.

So maybe we won’t ever win the lottery, or marry royalty, or make that last second shot. That doesn’t mean we won’t have amazing adventures, meet exceptional people, and make indelible memories. The trick is to notice before it’s too late.

Standing before this building, I learn something about fear. I learn that it is not the idle fantasies of someone who maybe wants something important to happen to him, even if the important thing is horrible. It is not the disgust of seeing a dead stranger, and not the breathlessness of hearing a shotgun pumped outside of Becca Arrington's house. This cannot be addressed by breathing exercises. This fear bears no analogy to any fear I knew before. This is the basest of all possible emotions, the feeling that was with us before we existed, before this building existed, before the earth existed. This is the fear that made fish crawl out onto dry land and evolve lungs, the fear that teaches us to run, the fear that makes us bury our dead.

Standing before this building, I learn something about fear. I learn that it is not the idle fantasies of someone who maybe wants something important to happen to him, even if the important thing is horrible. It is not the disgust of seeing a dead stranger, and not the breathlessness of hearing a shotgun pumped outside of Becca Arrington’s house. This cannot be addressed by breathing exercises. This fear bears no analogy to any fear I knew before. This is the basest of all possible emotions, the feeling that was with us before we existed, before this building existed, before the earth existed. This is the fear that made fish crawl onto dry land and evolve lungs, the fear that teaches us to run, the fear that makes us bury our dead.

That poem is so damned long. You'd think old Walt could have taken a line or two to tell us how to unscrew the door from its jamb.

Te cuento lo que no me gusta: desde aquí no se ve el óxido, la pintura cayéndose y todo eso, pero ves lo que es realmente. Ves lo falso que es todo. Ni siquiera es duro como el plástico. Es una ciudad de papel.

That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfast cereals based on color instead of taste.

These kids, they're like tied-down helium balloons. They strain against the string and strain against it, and then something happens, and that string gets cut, and they just float away. (...) But once that string gets cut, kid, you can't uncut it.

The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle. (Prologue)

The thing is that I do believe in college, and jobs, and maybe even babies one day. I believe in the future. Maybe it's a character flaw, but for me it is a congenital one.

The town was paper, but the memory was not.

The way you think about a person isn't the way they actually are.

Una ciudad de papel para una chica de papel.

Todo el mundo está enloquecido por la manía de poseer cosas. Todas las cosas débiles y frágiles como el papel.

Todo es más feo de cerca.

Un punto en el mapa se convirtió en un lugar real, más real de lo que las personas que crearon ese punto habrían imaginado.

Creo que el futuro merece que creamos en él.

We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors, is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters.

What a treacherous thing to believe, that a person is more than a person." - Paper Towns

You don't give a shit if people like you.

A poem can't do its work if you only read snippets of it.

But it was the last string. It was a lame string, for sure, but it was the one I had left, and every paper girl needs at least one string, right?

But then again, if you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all. Imagining isn't perfect. You can't get all the way inside someone else. I could never have imagined Margo's anger at being found, or the story she was writing over. But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in.

Cuando pensaba en él muriendo, que admito que no ha sido muchas veces, siempre pensaba en lo que dijiste, en que se le habían roto los hilos por dentro. Pero hay mil maneras de verlo. Quizá los hilos se rompen, o quizá nuestros barcos se hunden, o quizá somos hierba, y nuestras raíces son tan interdependientes que nadie esta muerto mientras quede alguien vivo. Lo que quiero decir es que no nos faltan las metaforas. Pero debes de tener cuidado con la metáfora que eliges, porque es importante. Si eliges los hilos, estás imaginándote un mundo en el que puedes romperte irreparablemente. Si eliges la hierba, estás diciendo que todos estamos infinitamente interconectados, que podemos utilizar ese sistema de raíces no sólo para entendernos unos a los otros. Las metáforas implican cosas.

We bring the fucking rain Q, not the scattered showers.

You listen to people so that you can imagine them, and your hear all the terrible and woderful things people do to themselves and to one another, but in the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you're trying to listen to.

You're just a really loud, awkward ninja, but we are both ninjas.

You're upsetting the black Santas.

And even though it was ridiculously childish, in the end I had to call myself a faggot, which really annoyed me, because 1. I don't think that word should ever be used by anyone, let alone me, and 2. As it happens, I am not gay, and furthermore, 3. Chuck Parson made it out like calling yourself a faggot was the ultimate humiliation, even though there's nothing at all embarrassing about being gay.

As we walked, I kept taking glances at her through the crowd, quick snapshots: a photographic series entitled Perfection Stands Still While Mortals Walk Past.

Ben, there are more important things going on,” I answered. “DESIGNATED DRIVER!” “What?” “You’re my designated driver! Yes! You are so designated! I love that you answered! That’s so awesome! I have to be home by six! And I designate you to get me there! YESSSSSSS!” “Can’t you just spend the night there?” I asked. “NOOOO! Booooo. Booo on Quentin. Hey, everybody! Boooo Quentin!” And then I was booed. “Everybody’s drunk. Ben drunk. Lacey drunk. Radar drunk. Nobody drive. Home by six. Promised Mom. Boo, Sleepy Quentin! Yay, Designated Driver! YESSSS!

By the power of the superglue beer sword, I designate you my driver!

Desde aquí no se ve el óxido, la pintura cayéndose y todo eso, pero ves lo que es realmente. Ves lo falso que es todo. Ni siquiera es duro como el plástico. Es una ciudad de papel.

Después de besarnos, nos miramos tan de cerca que nuestras frentes se tocan. Sí, la veo casi a la perfección en esta agrietada oscuridad.

Do you guys remember that one time, in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, that we somehow didn't die?