"Augustus,"I said. "Really. You don't have to do this.""Sure I do,"he said. "I found my Wish.""God, you're the best,"I told him."I bet you say that to all the boys who finance your international travel,"he answered."
"What a slut time is. She screws everybody."
"I told Augustus the broad outline of my miracle: diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer when I was thirteen. (I didn’t tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You’re a woman. Now die.)"
"I'll fight it. I'll fight it for you. Don't you worry about me, Hazel Grace. I'm okay. I'll find a way to hang around and annoy you for a long time."
"He flipped himself onto his side and kissed me. "You're so hot,"I said, my hand still on his leg. "I'm starting to think you have an amputee fetish,"he answered, still kissing me. I laughed."I have an Augustus Waters fetish,"I explained."
"And then I crawled into his unmade bed, wrapping myself in his comforter like a cocoon, surrounding myself with his smell. I took out my cannula so I could smell better, breathing him and out, the scent fading even as I lay there, my chest burning until I couldn't distinguish among the pains."