"Ci facevano vedere sempre Colombo che scopriva l'America, che sudava sette camicie per convincere Ferdinando e Isabella a dargli i soldi per comprare le caravelle e poi i marinai che si ammutinavano e via dicendo. A noi non ce ne importava un accidente del vecchio Colombo, ma eravamo sempre stracarichi di caramelle e di gomma eccetera eccetera, e nell'auditorium c'era un odore così buono. Un odore come se fuori piovesse anche quando non pioveva, e voi eravate nell'unico posto piacevole, asciutto e caldo del mondo."

― The Little Prince (2015) The Little Prince: Grown-ups! They never understand anything by themselves.

Dianna Agron as Brandon Flowers

Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? …I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself—if they could live in my memories—would anyone, anyone, love me?

John Green (via quotes--lyrics)

Van Houten,

I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time – and from what I saw, you have plenty – I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.

Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.

I want to leave a mark.

But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.

(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)

We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless – epically useless in my current state – but I am an animal like any other.

Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.

People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.

The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invented anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox.

After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.

A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse.

What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers. 

“I’m always surprised when I meet fans who have tattooed Muse name or our names. Every time I think to myself that we’ll never be able to split the band. It brings a kind of responsibility. There is a strong link with our fans and that’s why we’ll never split up after a fight, a bad mood or because one of us would become a junky, because the link is too strong and we have to keep it up. This responsibility is something that keeps us sane, that protects us as well.” Matthew Bellamy

This is really sad. I’ve grown up watching Glee since the first episode, since the first minute that it was announced. I watched all the interviews and everytime they won an award, I was proud. I’ve grown up watching Cory being the awkward, tall and sweet Finn Hudson and how he grow up so much and became a fantastic man since the first season to his last. Even though i didn’t watch Glee like I did before, when i read that Cory had passed away, my heart just broke to pieces … He was such an amazing guy, he had always that cute half smile on his face, he was kind to fans and to his friends and thats how we all will remember him, as the wierd, awkward, tall, drummer, sweet man he was and for the great dad that I believe he would be one day.

Rest in peace Cory Allan Michael Monteith, you’ll always be a star but now it’s your time to shine bright in the sky