Veronica Roth Quotes

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

"Can you be a girl for a few seconds?"
"I'm always a girl" I frown.
"You know what I mean. Like a silly, annoying girl"
I twirl my hair around my finger.

We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.

You know I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on.

"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.

Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.

It must require bravery to be honest all the time.

And I'm the kind of person who does not let inconsequential things like boys and near death experiences stop her.

You nearly died today,' he says. 'I almost shot you. Why didn't you shoot me, Tris?'
'I couldn't do that,' I say. 'It would have been like shooting myself.'
He looks pained and leans closer to me, so his lips brush mine when he speaks.

A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.

We kiss again and this time, it feels familiar. I know exactly how we fit together, his arm around my waist, my hands on his chest, the pressure of his lips on mine. We have each other memorized.

"You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.

"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.

His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."

"Why..." I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"

"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."

Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.

"I love you" I say.
"I love you, too" he says. "I'll see you soon."

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.