Everything - our houses, our clothes, our hairstyles - is meant to help us forget ourselves and to protect us from vanity, greed and envy, which are just forms of selfishness. If we have little, and want for little, and we are all equal, we envy no one.
Humans can't tolerate emptiness for long.
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.
My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn't belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.
The goal of my life isn't just... to be happy.
Who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable.
Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up
I am fed up. I am fed up with tears and weakness. But there isn't much i can do to stop them.
I tell myself, as sternly as possible, that is how things work here. We do dangerous things and people die. People die, and we move on to the next dangerous thing. The sooner that lesson sinks in, the better chance I have at surviving initiation.
Our eyes meet. I hear a train horn, so faint it could be wind whistling through an alleyway. But I know it when I hear it. It sounds like the Dauntless, calling me to to them.
The theory is that if you spill all your secrets, you'll have no desire to lie about anything, ever again. Like the worst about you is already in the open, so why not just be honest?
Why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? It isn't. It isn't.
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.
I breathe in. The water will wash my wounds clean. I breathe out. My mother submerged me in water when I was a baby, to give me to God. It has been a long time since I thought about God, but I think about him now. It is only natural. I am glad, suddenly, that I shot Eric in the foot instead of the head.
I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.
Part of me wonders if this is a suicide mission disguised as a game.
There is power in controlling something that can do so much damage - in controlling something, period.
Yesterday he told me he thought I would have to pretend to be weak, but he was wrong. I am weak already. I brace myself against the wall and press my forehead to my hands. It's difficult to take deep breaths, so I take short, shallow ones. I can't let this happen. They attacked me to make me feel weak. I can pretend they succeeded to protect myself, but I can't let it become true.
Half of bravery is perspective.
I can't answer either question. But the look she gives me reminds me of the look in the attack dog's eyes in the aptitude test - a vicious, predatory stare. She wants to rip me to pieces. I can't lie down in submission now. I have become an attack dog too.
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.
More Veronica Roth Quotations (Based on Topics)
Courage - Time - Fear - Death & Dying - Good & Evil - Selfishness - Water - People - Mind - Art - Education - Place - Learning - Reasoning - Honesty & Integrity - Courtesy - Belief & Faith - Life - Mothers - View All Veronica Roth Quotations
More Veronica Roth Quotations (By Book Titles)
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