重病中的女孩Hazel，爱上了同病相怜的男孩Augustus，死神的身影伴随着青春的曼妙，两个年轻人在让人羞赧的生理折磨和情感考验中互相依偎。
Augustus认为生命的意义就在于活得轰轰烈烈，这样才算是有意义；Hazel却与Augustus相反，她害怕被人记住，像一个定时炸弹般伤害爱她的人。
Hazel想在生命的最后时刻，完成荷兰之旅，男孩忍着病痛，帮她完成了心愿，就告别了这个世界，在有限的日子里给了女孩永远的爱。女孩读着男孩留下的信，凄然泪下……苦难中两颗纯洁心灵的抚慰，残酷中青春之花的绽放。
这部电影改编自美国青春文学作家约翰•格林（John Green）的同名小说The Fault In Our Stars（中文书名译作《无比美妙的痛苦》），蝉联纽约时报畅销书榜首80周。
书名The Fault In Our Stars取自莎士比亚的剧作《凯撒大帝》里第一幕第二景卡西乌斯的台词“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings”（“亲爱的布鲁塔斯，人们可以支配自己的命运，若我们受制于人，那错不在命运，而在我们自己！”）。
而The Fault In Our Stars则与这句台词刚好相反，Stars，是星运，即命运；Fault，是错误；意指错就在命运，不是自己能控制的。
故事中罹患癌症的Hazel和Augustus，在短暂的生命旅程中闯入了对方的世界。命运让他们相遇，相爱，相离，这究竟是一场对的安排还是一场美丽的错误？
也许故事听起来有些俗套，但作者在其中注入了更多关于生命、死亡与爱的思考，主题严肃却不压抑，故事平淡却不乏味。
小说充满了16岁少年之间机智的对话，也不乏青涩初恋的心动和美好，但给人留下最深印象的其实是所有人一生都不得不面对的问题——我是谁？我的生命有意义吗？我的一生会给宇宙留下什么样的印记？
这部小说将爱情与死亡写得如此平实而奇异，催人泪下，在洗涤人类情感的同时，让人体味生命和爱情的美妙与痛苦。
《偷书贼》作者马克斯·苏萨克评价称，约翰·格林的最高水平杰作，探讨生命与死亡，以及处在其间的人们。书中有泪水、有欢笑，并带来更多的省思。（A novel of life and death and the people caught in between,The Fault in Our Stars is John Green at his best. You laugh, you cry, and then you come back for more—Markus Zusak, author of The Book Thief）
小说的作者约翰·格林从事过记者、评论员、出版顾问、图书编辑等多种职业，他曾试图去做一名牧师，后来在一所重症儿童医院工作时，从身边的的孩子得到灵感，写成了这本The Fault In Our Stars《无比美妙的痛苦》（星运里的错）。
故事的灵感来源于一个患有甲状腺癌的女孩埃丝特，她12岁被诊断患癌，16岁便离开了人世。，埃丝特带着世间的美好去向了天堂。
谈到这本书，格林说，他很震惊在全球有那么多读者给他那么多反馈，但一想到有互联网，世界已经变成了地球村，倒也没什么奇怪的了。他说在这部书中融入了多个主题，例如生命、爱情…希望大家能找到自己不同的读解方式。
如果还没读过原著的朋友，都不妨读一读吧！
The Fault in Our Stars
无比美妙的痛苦/星运里的错
★盘踞美国《纽约时报》畅销书排行榜榜首80周
★美国《时代》杂志畅销书排行榜小说类第一名
★《华尔街时报》畅销书排行榜第一名
★《今日美国》评选的畅销书
★《纽约时报》编辑选择奖
★入选《出版人周刊》图书
分享两段最令人感动的台词：
在Augustus的提前葬礼上，Hazel给他写的悼词：
“My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won’t be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should. I’d hoped that he’d be eulogizing me, because there’s no one I’d rather have . . .” I started crying. “Okay, how not to cry. How am I—okay. Okay.”
I took a few breaths and went back to the page. “I can’t talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this: There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.”
译文（可上下拖动查看）：
大家好，我叫海蓁•格蕾丝•兰卡斯特。奥古斯塔斯•沃特斯是我此生灾星下的恋人，我们的爱情故事如史诗般荡气回肠，我没法开口讲，只要讲起，我便会淹没在泪水中。如所有真正的爱情故事一样，它会随我们一起进坟墓，也理应如此。我本希望他为我致悼词，因为我不愿意别人来。
我没法讲我们的故事，我做不到，所以我会讲讲数学。我不是数学家，但我知道一件事：在0和1之间有无穷多个数字，有0.1 0.12 0.112，还有无穷多其他数字的集合。当然，在0和2之间还有一个更大的集合，0到100万亦是如此。“有些无穷比别的无穷更大”。这是一个我们曾经喜欢过的作家教我们的。知道吗，我还能拥有的日子，我希望更多。还有，上帝啊，我但愿奥古斯塔斯•沃特斯仅有的日子也能更多。但是，格斯，我的爱，我无法告诉你，我们小小的无穷，让我多么感激。你在有限的日子里，给了我永远，为此我……我感激不尽。
最后Augustus留给Hazel的信：
Van Houten,
I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time—and from what I saw, you have plenty—I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.
Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
I want to leave a mark.
But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.
(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)
We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our toxic piss, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous attempt to survive our deaths. I can’t stop pissing on fire hydrants. I know it’s silly and useless—epically useless in my current state—but I am an animal like any other.
Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth: We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.
People will say it’s sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it’s not sad, Van Houten. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. Isn’t that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.
The real heroes anyway aren’t the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention. The guy who invented the smallpox vaccine didn’t actually invent anything. He just noticed that people with cowpox didn’t get smallpox.
After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I really thought she was going to die before I could tell her that I was going to die, too. It was brutal: the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this almost black dark blue and I just held her hand and tried to imagine the world without us and for about one second I
was a good enough person to hope she died so she would never know that I was going, too. But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love. I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that visitors weren’t allowed, and I asked if she was doing okay, and the guy said, “She’s still taking on water.” A desert blessing, an ocean curse.
What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.
I do, Augustus.
I do.
译文（可上下拖动查看）：
范•豪滕先生：我是个好人，但是东西写得稀烂。你是个烂人，但是东西写得不错。我觉得咱们搭档正好，我不想求你帮什么忙，但如果你有时间，而据我所见，你时间充裕。请帮我把这润色一下，是我给海蓁写的悼词。她想让我写一份，我在努力，但如果有人能帮上忙我也高兴。
是这么一回事，我们都希望被别人铭记，但海蓁不同，海蓁知道真相，她不求有数不清的爱慕者，只要那一个就好，而她得到了那个人，她被爱得或许不宽广，但却深沉，她拥有的难道不比大多数人多吗？
海蓁病着的时候，我知道自己快死了，但我不想这样告诉她。她在加护病房的时候，我溜了进去，在她旁边坐了十分钟左右才被发现，她的双眼紧闭，皮肤苍白，但她的手还是她的手，仍然温暖。指甲上涂着接近黑色的深蓝色指甲油。
我握着她的手，试图想象一个没有我们的世界，那会是个多么没有价值的世界啊！她那么美丽，你怎么看也看不厌，你不必担心她是否比你聪明，因为你很清楚她就是。她风趣而不刻薄，我爱她。天啊！我爱她！我真幸运能爱上她！
范•豪滕，在这世上你没法选择不受伤害，但让谁来伤害你，你却有几分决定权，我对我的选择很满意，希望她也满意自己的选择！好吗，海蓁•格蕾丝”？
好的！
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