Just got through The Fault in Our Stars and after some speedy Googling, I now feel less of a loser for crying while reading the book (because a ton of people cried too). Finished it in one sitting with a cup of tea followed by a cup of coffee just because it was already midnight and I really wanted to finish the book.
Everyone in this story has a rock solid hamartia: hers, that she is so sick; yours, that you are so well. Were she better or you sicker, then the stars would not be so terribly crossed, but it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note, “The fault, dear Brutus. is not in our stars/ But in ourselves.”
Without pain, how could we know joy? … But suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate. (I personally find it so much more meaningful with the entire paragraph, although most just quote the first sentence for how poetic it sounds.)