Reading it the night before, I'd wondered if it would be like that for me-if in one moment, I would finally understand her, know her, and understand the role I'd played in her dying. But I wasn't convinced enlightenment struck like lightining.
I don't think you're dying," I said. "I think you've just got a touch of cancer. He smiled. Gallows humor.
It was an indulgence, learning last words. Other people had chocolate; I had dying declarations.
That’s part of what I like about the book in some ways. It portrays death truthfully. You die in the middle of your life, in the middle of a sentence
Dying is the last thing I would EVER do!
The Side Effects of Dying in Your Pants isn't really funny… Alright, it's a little funny.
Is the labyrinth living or dying?
And yet still I worried. I like being a person. I wanted to keep at it. Worry is yet another side effect of dying.
I needed, I decided, to really know her, because I needed more to remember. Before I could begin the shameful process of forgetting the how and the why of her living and dying, I needed to learn it: How. Why. When. Where. What.
Peter Van Houten was the only person I’d ever come across who seemed to (a) understand what it’s like to be dying, and (b) not have died.
We just did an awesome job of not dying.
depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying.
Worry is yet another side effect of dying.
That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape---the world or the end of it?
I tried to tell myself that it could be worse, that the world was not a wish-granting factory, that I was living with cancer not dying of it, that I mustn't let it kill me before it kills me,...
Depression is a side effect of dying. (Almost everything is, really).