Veronica Roth’s “Divergent” Quotes (95 Quotes)

I would rather be dead than empty

Politeness is deception in pretty packaging.

They try to make you think they care about what you do but they don't. They don't want you to act a certain way. So you're easy to understand. So you won't pose a threat to them.

You chose us. Now we have to choose you.

HAND IN HAND, we walk toward the Pit. I monitor the pressure of my hand carefully. One minute, I feel like I'm not gripping hard enough, and the next, I'm squeezing too hard. I never used to understand why people bothered to hold hands as they walked, but then he runs one of his fingertips down my palm, and I shiver and understand it completely.

I don't see any elderly people in the crowd. Are there any old Dauntless? Do they not last that long, or are they just sent away when they can't jump off moving trains anymore?

If Eric thinks I did something right, I must have done it wrong.

Politeness is just deception in a pretty packaging.

Those who seek peace above all else, they say, will always deceive to keep the water calm.

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

He gives me a conflicted look and touches his lips to my forehead, right between my eyebrows. I close my eyes. I don't understand this, whatever it is. But I don't want to ruin it, so I say nothing. He doesn't move; he just stays there with his mouth pressed to my skin, and I stay there with my hands on his waist, for a long time.

I get up, because I'm supposed to, but if it were up to me, I'd stay in my seat for the rest of time.

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.

Sarcasm is always at someone's expense.

To live factionless Is not just to live in poverty and discomfort; it is to live divorced from society, separated from the most important thing in life: community. My mother once told me that we can't survive alone,but even if we could, we wouldn't want to. Without a faction, we have no purpose and no reason to live.

A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.

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?

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

I'm going to shoot a muffin off Marlene's head.

Scrubbing the floor when no one else wanted to was something that my mother would have done. If I can't be with her, the least I can do is act like her sometimes.

Two things you should know about me; The first is that I am deeply suspicious of people in general. It is my nature to expect the worst of them. And the second is that I am unexpectedly good with computers.

A chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy.

He moves his thumb in a slow circle over the back of my hand. It is meant to comfort me, but it frustrates me instead. I need to talk to him. I need to look at him.

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.

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

She is well practiced in the art of losing herself.

Valuing knowledge above all else results in a lust for power, and that leads men into dark and empty places.

A Dauntless Ferris wheel wouldn't have cars. You would just hang on tight with your hands, and good luck to you.

He pulls me over the railing and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

I have your back. I didn't mean only when it's easy. All the time.

It isn't right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first.

She is well protected in the art of losing herself.

We believe in bravery. We believe in taking action. We believe in freedom from fear and in acquiring the skills to force the bad out of our world so that the good can prosper and thrive. If you also believe in those things, we welcome you.

And is it selfish of me to crave victory, or is it brave?

He smiles in my memory. A curled lip. Straight teeth. Light in his eyes. Laughing, teasing, more alive in memory than I m in reality. It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.

I hear my heartbeat. I have been looking at him too long, but then, he has been looking back, and I feel like we are both trying to say something the other can't hear, though I could be imagining it. Too long - and now even longer, my heart even louder, his tranquil eyes swallowing me whole.

It must require bravery to be honest all the time.

Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.

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

Be brave, Beatrice. I love you.

Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.

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

It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.

Sometimes I see him as just another person, and sometimes I feel the sight of him in my gut, like a deep ache.

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.