Veronica Roth Quotes

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

She has been to the compound before. She remembered this hallway. She knows about the initiation process. My mother was Dauntless.

Human reason can excuse any evil.

That our world is so massive that it is completely out of our control, that we cannot possibly be as large as we feel.

Knowledge is power. Power to do evil...or power to do good. Power itself is not evil. So knowledge itself is not evil.

It's strange how time can make a place shrink, make its strangeness ordinary.

Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders, “people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.

Today you will choose your factions. Until this point you have followed your parents’ paths, your parents’ rules. Today you will find your own path, make your own rules.

We believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot defend themselves.

Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.

An artist gives. Gives visually, gives through courses, or with free advice, through generosity of spirit and through a need to share.

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

I watch her blond head until it disappears around the bend, and I feel bare, like there's nothing left to protect me against pain. Her absence stings worst of all.

You look older.” “Yes, well. The passage of time tends to do that to a person.

Part of me wonders if this is a suicide mission disguised as a game.

Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you," I say. "Controlling you is.

But now, I am also learning this: we can be mended. We mend each other.

Human reason can excuse any evil; that is why it's so important that we don't rely on it.

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

Sleep,” he says. “I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.” “With what?” “My bare hands, obviously.

I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn’t some faction archetype. But the Tris who’s trying as hard as she can to destroy herself … I can’t love her.

"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 is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand? (...) But please, when you see an opportunity...ruin them

Insurgent, he says. Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as a belligerent.

Humans can't tolerate emptiness for long.

His eyes search the crowd until they find my face. My heartbeat lives in my throat; lives in my cheeks. "I still don't understand," he says softly, "how she knew that it would work.

I love you." He frowns. "Say it again." "Tobias," I say. "I love you.

The Amity Established this place as a safe house. No conflict allowed." "The Amity will have trouble enforcing that policy," says Marcus. "How do you stop conflict without conflict?

And sometimes, if you want the truth, you have to demand it.

Looking at her is like waking up.

Human beings as a whole cannot be good for long before the bad creeps back in and poisons us again.

Not like Tobias, who is almost shy when he smiles, like he is surprised you bothered to look at him in the first place.

Noise and activity are the refuges of the bereaved and the guilty.

What's this about flashing underwear?" says Uriah, sidestepping a bunk. "Whatever it is, I'm in.

If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you are a coward.

You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it.

So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls into a smile.

But maybe what I saw as fearless was actually fear under control.

Faction before blood.

So small as to be negligible. It's strange, but there's something in that thought that makes me feel almost...free.

I am his, and he is mine, and it has been that way all along.

I'm sick of doing bad things and liking it and then wondering what's wrong with me. I want it to be over. I want to start again.

Who cares about everyone? What about me?

I figured I would shoot the bullets out of my nostrils, so I left [the gun] upstairs.

I want to be brave, and selfless, and smart, and kind, and honest.

In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life.

I am no longer Tris, the selfless, or Tris, the brave. I suppose that now, I must become more than either.

I ignore my fear. When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist.

Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion.

I feel bare. I didn't realize I wore my secrets as armor until they were gone and now everyone sees me as I really am.