And all at once I knew how Margo Roth Spiegelman felt when she wasn't being Margo Roth Spiegelman: she felt empty.
I was struck by an awful thought, the kind that cannot be taken back once it escapes into the open air of consciousness: it seemed to me that this was not a place you go to live. It was a place you go to die.
Yes. The fundamental mistake I had always made-and that she had, in fairness, always led me to make was this: Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.
-Paper Towns (the book)
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