“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.”

You won,” Four mutters. “Stop.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead. He stares at me. His eyes are too wide; they look alarmed.

Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.

Without a faction we have no purpose and no reason to live.

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

It doesn’t prove anything except that you’re bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice.

It reminds me why I chose Dauntless in the first place: not because they are perfect, but because they are alive. Because they are free.

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

He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive.

Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them.

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other.

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.

I traded cowardice for cruelty; I traded weakness for ferocity.

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.

No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens.

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

Pride is what killed Al, and it is the flaw in every Dauntless heart. It is in mine.

There are more tears shed over answered prayers than over unanswered prayers.

If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.

Sometimes your prayers aren’t answered because you’re worth more than you’re asking for.

Whence come I and whither go I? That is the great unfathomable question, the same for every one of us. Science has no answer to it.

If you asked me now who I am, the only answer I could give with any certainty would be my name. For the rest: my loves, my hates, down even to my deepest desires, I can no longer say whether these emotions are my own, or stolen from those I once so desperately wished to be.

Whatever has you afraid, angry, intimidated or frustrated tonight – take it to our all-powerful and all-capable God. He has the answer.

There’s an answer, if you reach into your soul, and the sorrow that you know will melt away.

When people say, ‘She’s got everything’, I’ve got one answer – I haven’t had tomorrow.