27 Quotes Tagged: tris

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.

"We've all started to put down the virtues of the other factions in the process of bolstering our own. I don't want to do that. I want to be brave, and selfless, and smart, and kind, and honest." He clears his throat. "I continually struggle with kindness."

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.

For a few minutes we kiss, deep in the chasm, with the roar of water all around us. And we rise, hand in hand, I realize that if we had both chosen differently, we might have ended up doing the same thing, in a safer place, in gray clothes instead of black ones.

"You think giving you a hug would give away too much?" he says.
"You know," I say. "I really don't care."
I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
It is the best moment of my life.

Okay, okay.” I set my hand on top of his and guide it to my chest, so it’s right over my heart. “Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Feel how steady it is?”

“It’s fast.”

“Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box.” I wince as soon as I’m done
speaking. I just admitted to something. Hopefully he doesn’t realize that.

Can I be forgiven for all I've done to get here?
I want to be.
I can.
I believe it.

Simulation Tobias kisses my neck.

I try to think. I have to face the fear. I have to take control of the situation and find a way to make it less frightening.

I look Simulation Tobias in the eye and say sternly, “I am not going to sleep with you in a hallucination. Okay?”

Then I grab him by his shoulders and turn us around, pushing him against the
bedpost. I feel something other than fear — a prickle in my stomach, a bubble of laughter. I press against him and kiss him, my hands wrapping around his arms. He feels strong. He feels…good.

And he’s gone.

I laugh into my hand until my face gets hot. I must be the only initiate with this fear.

"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."

He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

Who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable.

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," he says. His voice is deep, and it rumbles. "What's your name?"

"Um..." I don't know why I hesitate. But "Beatrice" just doesn't sound right anymore.

"Think about it," he says, a faint smile curling his lips. " You don't get to pick again."

A new place, a new name. I can be remade here.

"Tris," I say firmly.

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

Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it.

I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me — they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.