Looking For Alaska Special 10th Anniversary Edition

I go to seek a Great Perhaps

“So this guy,” I said, standing in the doorway of the living room. “François Rabelais. He was this poet. And his last words were ‘I go to seek a Great Perhaps.’ That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.”

“Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war.”

“Y’all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”

François Rabelais. He was this poet. And his last words were ‘I go to seek a Great Perhaps.’ That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.”

Before I got here, I thought for a long time that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life

subvert the patriarchal paradigm

French, Feel, Finger, Fuck.

cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next.

You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present