Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl. It's easy to like someone from a distance. But when she stopped being this amazing unattainable thing or whatever, and started being, like, just a regular girl with a weird relationship with food and frequent crankiness who's kind of bossy--then I had to basically start liking a whole different person.

                                                   -John Green


I read for hours to find the words,
The ones I required to know.
Ah, at last, she was so right,
Words pulled from my own shadow.

I knew them to be words of truth,
These words I had to find.
She told me I had to read them,
They might bring me peace of mind.

Alas, she was right as always,
I know not how she does.
Plucking at my own heartstrings,
The words told me who I was.