"I’m telling you," Isaac continued, “Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interrupt you at his own funeral. And he was pretentious: Sweet Jesus Christ, that kid never took a piss without pondering the abundant metaphorical resonances of human waste production. And he was vain: I do not believe I have ever met a more physically attractive person who was more acutely aware of his own physical attractiveness.”
|14 years old:||I'm young but I know what I want. This isn't that hard, I'm all grown up already and have everything figured out.|
|17 years old:||Well, this is a little harder than I thought. School is almost ending. What am I going to do with my life?|
|21 years old:||What the fuck is going on? Where are my socks?|
"The Upper East Side was like something from Fitzgerald or Thackeray. Teenagers acting like adults. Adults acting like teenagers, guarding secrets, writing gossip all with the trappings of truly opulent wealth. And membership in this community was so elite, you couldn’t even buy your way in. It was a birth right.”
For God so loved the world that He sent His one and only Son to die for your mean neighbor and your crazy roommate and the picketing bigot and the racist blogger and your gay friend and all the politicians and our crazy parents and the pastor down the street and the uptight religious folk and the girl at work you can’t stand, because Jesus didn’t just die for the people you like, but for people like you and me.