I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose.

It's strange how time can make a place shrink, make its strangeness ordinary.

Sometimes, all it takes to save people from a terrible faith is one person willing to do something about it. Even if that "something" is a fake bathroom break.

You're not very nice," I say, grinning."You're one to talk.""Hey, I could be nice if I tried.""Hmm." He taps his chin. "Say something nice, then.""You're very good-looking."He smiles, his teeth a flash in this dark. "I like this 'nice' thing.

You know, there's a word for big, strong men who attack women, and it's coward.

We don't know what's happened out there since they put us in here, or how many generations have lived and died since they did.We could be the last people left.

My mother wasn't a fool," I say. "She just understood something you didn't. That it's not sacrifice if it's someone else's life you're giving away, it's just evil."I back up another step and say, "She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love, not misplaced disgust for another person's genetics. That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own. ...

I just wanted to thank you' he says, his voice low.'A group of scientists told you that my genes were damaged, that there was something wrong with me - they showed you the test results that proved it. And even I started to believe it.' He touches my face, his thumb skimming my cheekbone, and his eyes are on mine, intense and insistent.'You never believed it,' he says 'Not for a second. You always insisted I was... I don't know, whole.

I laugh, and it’s laughter, not light, that casts out the darkness building within me, that reminds me I am still alive, even in this strange place whereeverything I’ve ever known is coming apart. I know some things—I know that I’m not alone, that I have friends, that I’m in love. I know where I came from. I know that I don’t want to die, and for me, that’s something—more than I could have said a few weeks ago.

It happened. It was awful. You aren't perfect. That's all there is. Don't confuse your grief with guilt."We stay in the silence and the loneliness of the otherwise empty dormitory for a few more minutes, and I try to let her words work themselves into me.

I like to hurt people too. I can make the cruelest choice. The difference is, sometimes I don't, and you always do, and that makes you evil.

Everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.

If I let a little of the emotion out, all of it will come out, and it will never end.

She is a woman of muscle twisted around bone.

If someone offers you an opportunity to get closer to your enemy, you always take it. I know that without having learned it from anyone.

It’s getting more difficult to be wise,” he says, laughing into my ear.I smile at him. “I think that’s how it’ssupposed to be.

She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love... That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own.

There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved for the sake of something greater.

Doing a little at once can fix something, eventually, but i feel like when you believe something is truly a problem, you throw everything you have at it, because you just can't help yourself.

The ability to think isn't exclusive to erudite

I don’t know how long i tis before we get cold again, and huddle under the blanket together.-It’s getting more difficult to be wise. – He says,laughing into my ear.I smile at him. – I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

He should be the one to die, part of me thinks.I don't want to lose him, another part argues.I don't know which part to believe.

Caleb and Tris exchange a look. The skin on his face and on her knuckles is nearly the same colour, purple-blue-green, as if drawn with ink. This is what happens when siblings collide - they injure each other in the same way.

Can I be forgiven for all I've done to get here?I don't know. I don't know.please.-Tris, DivergentCan I be forgiven for all I've done to get here?I want to be.I can.I believe it.-Tris, Allegiant

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight for a few seconds. Hisbreaths tickle my ear, and I close my eyes, letting myself finally relax. Hesmells like wind and sweat and soap, like Tobias and like safety.