augustus & isaac

Augustus Waters era un bastardo che adorava autocelebrarsi. Ma noi lo perdoniamo. Lo perdoniamo non perché avesse un cuore buono in senso figurato quanto quello autentico faceva schifo, non perché ne sapesse di più su come si tiene una sigaretta in bocca di qualunque altro non fumatore della storia, non perché ha ottenuto la sorte di vivere diciotto anni quando avrebbe dovuto viverne di più. – Diciassette – Sto dando per scontato che tu abbia ancora un po’ di tempo, bastardo rompiballe. – Credetemi – ha ripreso, – Augustus Waters parlava così tanto che sarebbe stato capace di interrompervi al suo stesso funerale. Ed era presuntuoso: buon Gesù, quel ragazzo non si faceva mai una pisciata senza meditare sulle abbondanti risonanze metaforiche dello spreco di liquame umano. Ed era anche vanitoso: non credo di aver mai incontrato una persona fisicamente attraente tanto consapevole di esserlo. Ma vi dico questo: quando gli scienziati del futuro si presenteranno alla mia porta con gli occhi robotici e mi diranno di provarli, io dirò a quegli scienziati di sparire, perché non voglio vedere il mondo senza di lui.
—  Colpa delle stelle, John Green
Augustus Waters was a self-aggrandizing bastard. But we forgive him. We forgive him not because he had a heart as figuratively good as his literal one sucked, or because he knew more about how to hold a cigarette than any nonsmoker in history, or because he got eighteen years when he should’ve gotten more.’
‘Seventeen,’ Gus corrected.
'I’m assuming you’ve got some time, you interupting bastard.
'I’m telling you,’ Isaac continued, 'Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interupt 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.
'But I will say this: When the scientists of the future show up at my house with robot eyes and they tell me to try them on, I will tell the scientists to screw off, because I do not want to see a world without him.’
I was kind of crying by then.” 
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Augustus Waters was a self-aggrandizing bastard. But we forgive him. We forgive him not because he had a heart as figuratively good as his literal one sucked, or because he knew more about how to hold a cigarette than any nonsmoker in history, or because he got eighteen years when he should’ve gotten more.“Seventeen,’ Gus corrected.‘I’m assuming you’ve got some time, you interupting bastard.'I’m telling you,’ Isaac continued, 'Augustus Waters talked so much that he’d interupt 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.'But I will say this: When the scientists of the future show up at my house with robot eyes and they tell me to try them on, I will tell the scientists to screw off, because I do not want to see a world without him.'I was kind of crying by then.
—  John Green