Veronica Roth Quotes - Page 4

(...) a man encased in ice, his eyes hard and his voice like a frosty exhale.

You won’t shoot me.""People tend to overestimate my character," I say quietly. "They think that because I’m small, or a girl, or a Stiff, I can’t possibly be cruel. But they’re wrong.

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.

At home I used to spend calm, pleasant nights with my family. My mother knit scarves for the neighborhood kids. My father helped Caleb with his homework. There was a fire in the fireplace and peace in my heart, as I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, and everything was quiet. I have never been carried around by a large boy, or laughed until my stomach hurt at the dinner table, or listened to the clamor of a hundred people all talking at once. Peace is restrained; this is free.

I miss the fears of the past few weeks, rendered small by my fears now.

I close my eyes. I don't expect Four to reassure me, and he makes no effort to, but I feel better standing here than I did out there among the people who are my friends, my faction.

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.

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other

I am wearing a gray shirt, blue jeans, black shoes--new clothes, but beneath them, my Dauntless tattoos. It is impossible to erase my choices. Especially these.

Yeah, sometimes life really sucks," she says. "But you know what I'm holding on for?"I raise my eyebrows.She raises hers, too, mimicking me."The moments that don't suck," she says. "The trick is to notice them when they come around.

You're desperate, and so am I,' I said. 'Desperate people make stupid decisions all the time.'"P244

Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.

...something important is lost if this man has been forced to deny his own nature.

No,I just thought I'd shoot bullets out of my nose

Fear,” she says, “is more powerful than pain.

There is an art to Noavek bullshit," Cyra said as she muted the feed. "We're taught it from birth.

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

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.

Maybe time would not feel as heavy if I didn't have this guilt - the guilt of knowing the truth and stuffing it down where no one can see it.

I regret..." Tobias tilts his head, and sighs. "I regret my choice.""What Ch

Moths," repeats Will. "You're afraid of moths?" "Not just a cloud of moths," she says, "like...a swarm of them. Everywhere. All those wings and legs and..." She shudders and shakes her head."Terrifying," Will says with mock seriousness. "That's my girl. Tough as cotton balls.""Oh, Shut up.

Okay. Then...I can talk. Ask me something.""Okay." He laughs shakily in my ear. "Why is your heart racing Tris?"I cringe and say, "Well, I...I barely know you. I barely know you and I'm crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think?"..."Maybe you were cut out for Candor," he says, "because you're a terrible liar.

The tunnel is lit at long intervals, so in the dark space between each dim lamp, I fear that I am lost until a shoulder bumps mine. In the circles of light I am safe again.

How many young men fear that there is a monster inside them? People are supposed to fear others, not themselves. People are supposed to aspire to become their fathers, not shudder at the thought.

I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.

Because inside me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom.. and as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.

I breathe in. The water will wash my wounds clean. I breathe out. My mother submerged me in water when I was a baby, to give me to God. It has been a long time since I thought about God, but I think about him now. It is only natural. I am glad, suddenly, that I shot Eric in the foot instead of the head.

Yeah, well, we're all afraid." I sighed. "The angry more than most, I think.

Psyche you out?" I repeat. "I'm your FRIEND. I wouldn't do that." He doesn't say anything. I can tell he doesn't believe me-not quite.

Wait a second," Four says. I turn toward him, wondering which version of Four I'll see now-the one who scolds me, or the one who climbs Ferris wheels with me. He smiles a little, but the smile doesn't spread to his eyes, which look less tense and worried."You belong here, you know that?" he says. "You belong with us. It'll be over soon, so just hold on, okay?"He scratches behind his ear and looks away, like he's embarrassed by what he said. I stare at him. I feel my heartbeat everywhere, even in my toes. I feel like doing something bold, but I could just as easily walk away. I am not sure which option is smarter, or better. I am not sure that I care.I reach out and take his hand. His fingers slide between mine. I can't breathe. I stare up at him, and he stares down at me. For a long moment, we stay that way. Then I pull my hand away and run after Uriah and Lynn and Marlene. Maybe now he thinks I'm stupid, or strange. Maybe it was worth it.

And there were some things I didn't know I had until I lost them.

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.But sometimes it doesn't.Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life. That is the sort of bravery I must have now.

We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.

But then he stops at the door frame and says, It's 9:24. Telling me the time is a small act of betrayal-and therefore an ordinary act of bravery. It is maybe the first time I've seen Peter be truly Dauntless.

If they told us what to believe, and we didn't come to it on our own, is it still true?

What is wrong with you?' I shake my head. 'Pull it together.' And that's what it feels like: pulling the different parts of me up and in like a shoelace. I feel suffocated, but at least I feel strong.

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.

I have a scar-a faint gouge in my knee from when I fell down on the sidewalk as a child. It's always seemed stupid to me that none of the pain I've experienced has left a visible mark; sometimes, without a way to prove it to myself. I began to doubt that I had lied through it at all, with the memories becoming hazy over time. I want to have some kind of reminder that while wounds heal, they don't disappear forever- I carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of things, the way of scars.That is what this tattoo will be, for me: a scar. And it seems fitting that it should document the worst memory of pain I have.

Thank you for your honesty," Niles says. The Candor repeat the phrase under their breath. All around me are the words "Thank you for your honesty" at different volumes and pitches, and my anger begins to dissolve.

It will be difficult to break the habits of thinking Abnegation instilled in me, like tugging a single thread from a complex work of embroidery. But I will find new habits, new thoughts, new rules. I will become something else.

I open my eyes and for the first time stare openly at my own reflection. My heart rate picks up as I do, like I am breaking the rules and will be scolded for it. It will be difficult to break the habits of thinking Abnegation instilled in me, like tugging a single thread from a complex work of embroidery. But I will find new habits, new thoughts, new rules. I will become something else. …Looking at myself now isn’t like seeing myself for the first time; it’s like seeing someone else for the first time. Beatrice was a girl I saw in stolen moments at the mirror, who kept quiet at the dinner table. This is someone whose eyes claim mine and don’t release me; this is Tris.

We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.

Writing means not just staring ugliness in the face, but finding a way to embrace it.

Want something else more than success. Success is a lovely thing, but your desire to say something, your worth, and your identity shouldn’t rely on it, because it’s not guaranteed and it’s not permanent and it’s not sufficient. So work hard, fall in love with the writing—the characters, the story, the words, the themes—and make sure that you are who you are regardless of your life circumstances. That way, when the good things come, they don’t warp you, and when the bad things hit you, you don’t fall apart.

I used to think that when people fell in love, they just landed where they landed, and they had no choice in the matter afterward. And maybe that’s true of beginnings, but it’s not true of this, now.I fell in love with him. But I don’t just stay with him by default as if there’s no one else available to me. I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other. I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.

She said that everyone has some evil inside them, and the first step to loving anyone is to recognize the same evil inside ourselves,so we're able to forgive them.

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.

Stupid. Why do people want to pretendthat death is sleep? It isn’t. It isn’t

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.

A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.

Sometimes it isn't fighting that's brave, it's facing the death you know is coming.

What did you do?” I mumble. He is just a few feet away from me now, but not close enough to hear me. As he passes me he stretches out his hand. He wraps it around my palm and squeezes. Squeezes, then lets go. His eyes are bloodshot; he is pale. “What did you do?” This time the question tears from my throat like a growl. I throw myself toward him, struggling against Peter’s grip, though his hands chafe. “What did you do?” I scream. “You die, I die too” Tobias looks over his shoulder at me. “I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions.

It's hard to know what's right in this life,' she said. 'We do what we can, but what we really need is mercy. Do you know who taught me that?' A grin. 'You.'"P459

The only reason I haven't shot you yet is because he's the one who should get to do it," I say. "Stay away from him or I'll decide I no longer care.

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.

Are you asking me to undress, Tris?'A nervous laugh gurgles from my throat. 'Only ... partially

I have never been carried around by a large boy, or laughed until my stomach hurt at the dinner table, or listened to the clamor of a hundred people all talking at once. Peace is restrained; this is free.

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.

Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just...want to see it again. Want to see you awake.

He smells safe, too, like sunlit walks in the orchard and silent breakfastsin the dining hall. And in the moments before I drift off to sleep, I almost forget about our war-torn city and all the conflict that willcome to find us soon, if we don’t find it first.