I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different. - Veronica Roth

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 of what I want.’
‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’
Slowly I nod.

May the peace of God be with you,” she says, her voice low, “even in the midst of trouble.”
“Why would it?” I say softly, so no one else can hear. “After all I’ve done...”
“It isn’t about you,” she says. “It is a gift. You cannot earn it, or it ceases to be a gift.

Shh,” I say. “Arms around me.” Obediently, he slips both arms around my waist. I smile at the wall. I am not enjoying this. I am not, not even a little bit, no.