We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.
Take a person’s memories, and you change who they are.
Some things are hard to let go of.
Resisting is worth doing.
Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.
Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide- open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.
I think you're still the only person sharp enough to sharpen someone like me.
Sometimes pain is for the greater good.
Sometimes I still forget to look for the gentler parts of her. For so long all I saw was the strength, standing out like the wiry muscles in her arms or the black ink marking her collarbone with fligh...
It's not often real that you encounter the real person behind a good-natured mask, the darkest part of someone. It's not comfortable what you do.
He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too.‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid...
Change, like healing, takes time.
Soft hearts make the universe worth living in.
I like to think I'm helping them by hating them. I'm reminding them that they aren't God's gift to humankind.
Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.
There is power in self-sacrifice.
It reminds me that no embrace will ever feel the same again, because no one will ever be like her again, because she's gone. She's gone, and crying feels so useless, so stupid, but it's all I can do.
Tris, Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow.There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, Beatrice.He laughs weakly.Beatrice, he amends, and touches...
Sarcasm is always at someone's expense.
It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.