Did John Green actually write that?

Given the praise he receives, let's play a funny game. The rules are:
- Post a fragment of a book / story.
- Post as a spoiler the pic of the author (the name is spoiler is also valid, but pictures are encouraged)
- Anons have to guess if it was wrote by Green or not, Bonus point if you evaluate it before.

Other urls found in this thread:

cbc.ca/books/2015/07/who-said-it-john-green-or-anne-of-green-gables.html
youtube.com/watch?v=F_vFvbfn9Fs
twitter.com/SFWRedditVideos

I start:

"I followed him upstairs, losing ground as I made my
way up slowly, stairs not being a field of expertise for my
lungs.

And then we were out of Jesus's heart and in the
parking lot, the spring air just on the cold side of perfect,
the late-afternoon light heavenly in its hurtfulness."

Come on, don't tell me you are now tired of meme green. Afraid of being exposed as a pseud?

Too much work for Veeky Forums. We're too exhausted from attempting to starve ourselves to death to participate in this.

does he have a weird head shape or is it his shitty hairline?

>“Because of the self-confidence with which he had spoken, no one could tell whether what he said was very clever or very stupid.”

it's Tolstoy.

underrated thread

She had a drink with Stephanie. Rebecca started an argument because she was jealous of Stephanie. In her anger Hilda said she didn't like Rebecca's greenishness. They drank together. Hilda said that at one point she did like Rebecca's greenishness, but no longer. Hilda added to the fire by saying that she can continue loving Rebecca in spite of her condition. Rebecca is angered - she doesn't want it that way. They come to the conclusion that there are important parts of all of us which must be gazed past.

I was surprised to learn that John is a Christian. Anglican, too

That most Catholic of heresies.

John Green was right all along...

agreed. bump

Scotch Lucitherite detected.

> Did John Green Actually Write That?

Sounds like a title a Veeky Forumsizen would use for their unpublished novel.

Kek, I thought of this same thread and didn't even look in the catalog.

Do more you gays.

Ima go with no

Eh, depends. Some of it is, some of it is uber-prot. Institutional Anglicanism is preeeety Catholic though.

Quality thread, bumped

I'm guessing Carl Sagan.

What about this one?

"Here will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything."

Who wrote this? Your science fiction writer or the magnificent Green?

"Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the stream to suck up more water. When she closed her eyes at last, Dany did not know whether she would be strong enough to open them again"

Not Green.

Not Green.

cbc.ca/books/2015/07/who-said-it-john-green-or-anne-of-green-gables.html

That's Green.

So easy I don't even want to answer it.

Fault in our Arse

what the actual fuck

GoT right?

war and peace, didn't even need to spoil it.

which one of the Kurágunin was it? i'm guessing Anatole.

also, isn't it in the first 100 pages?

to melodramatic. that's greene. Camus would have written it better.

that's GRRM's most famous quote.

here comes back my lunch

>"Why can't i have someone to talk to?" I said. The stars said nothing, but i pretended to ignore the rudeness

to easy IMO

>It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden where I wandered; the spectral summer of narcotic flowers and humid seas of foliage that bring wild and many-coloured dreams. And as I walked by the shallow crystal stream I saw unwonted ripples tipped with yellow light, as if those placid waters were drawn on in resistless currents to strange oceans that are not in the world. Silent and sparkling, bright and baleful, those moon-cursed waters hurried I knew not whither; whilst from the embowered banks white lotos blossoms fluttered one by one in the opiate night-wind and dropped despairingly into the stream, swirling away horribly under the arched, carven bridge, and staring back with the sinister resignation of calm, dead faces.

fuck, i'd forgotten how god his description was, back to reading

“What the hell is that?" I laughed.
"It's my fox hat."
"Your fox hat?"
"Yeah, Pudge. My fox hat."
"Why are you wearing your fox hat?" I asked.
"Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox.”

“One swing set, well worn but structurally sound, seeks new home. Make memories with your kid or kids so that someday he or she or they will look into the backyard and feel the ache of sentimentality as desperately as I did this afternoon. It's all fragile and fleeting, dear reader, but with this swing set, your child(ren) will be introduced to the ups and downs of human life gently and safely, and may also learn the most important lesson of all: No matter how hard you kick, no matter how high you get, you can't go all the way around.”

“The truth is you already know what it's like. You already know the difference between the size and speed of everything that flashes through you and the tiny inadequate bit of it all you can ever let anyone know. As though inside you is this enormous room full of what seems like everything in the whole universe at one time or another and yet the only parts that get out have to somehow squeeze out through one of those tiny keyholes you see under the knob in older doors. As if we are all trying to see each other through these tiny keyholes.

is that what the fox said?

>shitty prose
>melodramatic teenage talk

that's green
sounds awfully familiar, but i can't place it. it's not green.

is it a meme book?

I assumed it wouldn't be him because of the swear.
>sounds awfully familiar, but i can't place it. it's not green.

>is it a meme book?
:)

This is the hardest one in the thread

At first you maybe start to like some person on the basis of, you know, features of the person. The way they look, or the way they act, or if they're smart, or some combination or something. So in the beginning it's I guess what you call features of the person that make you feel certain ways about the person. ... But then if you get to where you, you know, love a person, everything sort of reverses. It's not that you love the person because of certain things about the person anymore; it's that you love the things about the person because you love the person. It kind of radiates out, instead of in. At least that's the way ... That's the way it seems to me.

>the tiny inadequate bit
I'll say no to Green. Green please go.

Yeah it's a shame I already knew where it was from.
I'm guessing it's not him but I'm really unsure.

>And Arcadia was a little girls name. Wished on her because her great-grandmother had been called that; her parents just had no imagination at all. Now that she was two days past fourteen, you'd think they'd recognize the simple fact of adulthood and call her Arkady.

I think I know this guy. Can't remember who though.

Holy shit that is awful

Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don't-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.

lol Gaiman

come on, it's the most known fragment of that story.

answer is: page 35 of good old neon.

"...the real heroes of the Wish Factory are the young men and women who wait like Vladimir and Estragon wait for Godot and good Christian girls wait for marriage. These young heroes wait stoically and without complaint for their one true Wish to come along. Sure, it may never come along, but at least they can rest easily in the grave knowing that they’ve done their little part to preserve the integrity of the Wish as an idea."

>like Vladimir and Estragon wait for Godot
this fucking phrasing of a pretentious, laid-out reference

100% it's green

lmao I thought it was Pynchon

Holy crap I remember this part too, weird. Too bad poster didn't play the fucking game right. Could've been good.

Who?

lovecraft: "what the moon brings".

as far as lovecraft goes, it isn't the best, but i though it suited green (well, as far as it can).

forgot i was suposed to put images :(

I'm guessing no because I've only seen him do impartial narration.

Me too, that reference to Beckett wasn't expected. Also, we should not spoil the fun for others.

The eternal Anglo strikes again

I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage, like the despicable fabrication of the impotent and infinitely small Euclidean mind of man, that in the world's finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, for all the blood that they've shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.

easy mode

That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.

It's pretty obvious Green could never write something like that. He can't use phrases like 'infinitely small Euclidean mind of man' without drawing an arrow pointing to it to show how smart he is

A literal meme denomination too

Not bad, but it would have been better cut by half.

If you enjoy that kind of cosmic, flowery, synaesthetic prose you should definitely try Clark Ashton Smith.

i'm pretty sure that's the most used quote from the book

This must be him or someone way worse.

I've always loved you, and when you love someone, you love the whole person, just as he or she is, and not as you would like them to be

normal mode
sorry for the all the russian dick sucking, but i've been on a binge lately

It's not him but it's bad.

>the basis of, you know, features

this man has been published and renowned.

just

'Thats' right,' said Mrs Cole, helping herself to more gin. 'I remember it clear as anything because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour.'

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

>Arkady
Again, I don't think it's him, but it's just as bad. And what the hell is he on about, Arkady is a man's name.

So, I guess we are who we are for alot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

hard modedon't ask me why i know this one

Once they said Euclidean, I knew it wasn't Green. Green is too aware of his fanbase and would never casually namedrop someone obscure to public knowledge like Euclid.

Holy St. Filofteia, that is indeed John Green tier.

ikr, it's especially bad taken out of context.

even the greats are allowed to have their green moments, from time to time.

People getting pissy about the unprofessionalism gtfo DFW displayed a fascinating range of tones in different stories

If this isn't JG it must be Coelho.

fuck, i'm portuguese and it didn't even occur to me to put coelho in.

jesus fuck i'm mad right now.

Very true, and even JG can ascend sometimes to a higher plane, perhaps. I don't know, but that "pain demands to be felt" quote fooled me.

I think green wrote it

one fucking job and i fucked it up

lrn2spoiler

You must post some authentic Greenisms too every once in a while to keep us on our toes.

this thread is surprisingly entertaining

My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.

Before you my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars, points of light and reason. ...And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn’t see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason, for anything.

teenie boper edition

i feel like this one isn't even coherent.

can he not fathom his onw thoughs? can he not put his thoughs together into groups?
i'm guessing it's him.

is green to deep for me, or am i just a retard?

“He reached up t0 grab one and came down with several, and they kept coming, washing over him, floating all around him. Never have tampon strings seemed so beautiful as they rolled up and down with the wind, landing on the ground and then twirling and floating up again, falling and rising and falling and rising.”

This one fooled me too.

sounds like a re-write of 50 shades of gray

A lot of heresies pass for Christianity in usa. He's as much of a Christian as that Joel Osteen guy.

youtube.com/watch?v=F_vFvbfn9Fs

i know this isn't a cringe thread, but, this needs to be here.

faint of heart, don't hear

I get what he's trying to say and I liked it but you're right, I can't see how fathom would work there.

>side effect of dying
>side effect
> of dying

fuck me this is bad.

tolstoi made the point he was "trying" to make better when Andrei got shot in war and peace

>claims to hate fancy literature
>tries so hard to copy it that sentences lose meaning

meta gonne to far

Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.

You have to read it in context of the novel.

>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.)

Augustus is an aspiring writer who is too scatterbrained to string his thoughts (stars) together into coherent narratives (constellations).

oh god

he starts reading two fucking minutes in

I can't do this

This one was obvious. Knew it was Dosto or Tolstoi.

*I mean the thoughts he has (stars) are disconnected and scattered (constellations). If his thoughts were coherent they wouldn't be constellations, but something more connected. Who know what shape they would be?

i know you tried, but now it's worse. he states he can put his ideas together, and then he denies it in the next sentence.

No he doesn't.

>I can’t pull my ideas together