A Quote by John Green

Remember that time in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, when we didn't die? — © John Green
Remember that time in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, when we didn't die?
pg. 231-232: They'd given me a minivan. They could have picked any car and they picked a minivan. A minivan. O God of the Vehicular Justice, why dost thou mock me? Minivan, you albatross around my neck! You mark of Cain! You wretched beast high ceilings and few horsepower!
It's an ethical pact I've made with myself and with the reader - not to invent. And when I can't remember, I say I can't remember. I'm just appalled by the memoirs published by people who regurgitate dialogue, conversations from when they were small children, and they go on for three or four pages. I can't even remember what we said to each other ten minutes ago! How can I remember what was said sixty years ago? It's not possible.
I remember things that happened sixty years ago, but if you ask me where I left my car keys five minutes ago, that's sometimes a problem.
Hamilton awkwardly folded himself into the passenger seat. "Couldn't you get something bigger?" he asked as he banged his knee against the dashboard. "We're supposed to be a diversion," Jonah said. "Got to make an entrance. Can't do that in a minivan, Giganto Boy. Can't do much in a minivan except look about as uncool as it gets." "Hey! My dad drives a minivan." "Snap.
I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired.
He was worried she would not let him love her with the stain. He had already decided long ago, twenty or thirty minutes ago, that the stain was fine. He had only seen it for a moment, but he was already used to it. It was good. It somehow allowed them to have more.
I wonder what especial sanctity attaches itself to fifteen minutes. It is always the maximum and the minimum of time which will enable us to acquire languages, etiquette, personality, oratory ... One gathers that twelve minutes a day would be hopelessly inadequate, and twenty minutes a wasteful and ridiculous excess.
Probably looking at a piece of paper and all the features of a minivan, the minivan is probably the best car in the world.
Reality and fiction are really mixed up. The frontier between reality and fiction is tremendously porous and slippery. And in fact, when I remember something that has happened to me a long time ago, let's say twenty years ago, many times I'm not sure if I have actually lived what I am recalling, or I have dreamed about it, or I have written about it, or I have imagined it all.
People may correctly remember the events of twenty years ago (a remarkable feat), but who remembers his fears, his disgusts, his tone of voice? It is like trying to bring back the weather of that time.
I always feel more grounded and stable when I have balance in my life; I'm a Libra! I'm most often surrounded by people, so what I usually crave is time alone. If I can have even a twenty-minute walk or swim and another twenty quiet minutes to myself at night, I can be much more giving all day long.
I've met a lot of hardboiled eggs in my time, but you're twenty minutes.
Josh had told me a long time ago that he had this theory that an entire relationship was based on what occurred over the course of the first five minutes you know each other. That everything that came after those first minutes was just details being filled in. Meaning: you already knew how deep the love was, how instinctually you felt about someone. What happened in their first five minutes? Time stopped.
I do twenty minutes every time the refrigerator door opens and the light comes on.
A mother takes twenty years to make a man of her boy, and another woman makes a fool of him in twenty minutes.
The only single guy driving a minivan is a guy whose mother bought the van 16 years ago...
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