When you’re a writer, you hear your internal critic, and that’s really hard to get over. And then sometimes you hear critiques from classmates and stuff.
VERONICA ROTHIt doesn’t prove anything except that you’re bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice.
More Veronica Roth Quotes
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Desperation can make a person do surprising things.
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There is a difference between admitting and confessing. Admitting involves softening, making excuses for things that cannot be excused; confessing just names the crimes at its full severity.
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I feel like myself, strong and weak at once – allowed, at least for a little while, to be both.
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Choices can be made again.” -Evelyn Johnson (Eaton)
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I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.
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He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive.
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Maybe there’s more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time.
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We kiss again and this time, it feels familiar.
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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.
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In that moment I know exactly what I want; I want to peel away all the layers of clothing between us, strip away everything that separates us, the past and the present and the future.
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To find that place between what I want and what I think is wise.
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It will be difficult to break the habits of thinking Abnegation instilled in me, like tugging a single thread from a complex work of embroidery. But I will find new habits, new thoughts, new rules. I will become something else.
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I know that change is difficult, and comes slowly, and that it is the work of many days strung together in a long line until the origin of them is forgotten.
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The truth is… you are hurting me. Not on purpose, I know that. But I love you and every second that you don´t love me back…it hurts.
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His fingers slide into my hair, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as we press together like two blades at a stalemate.
VERONICA ROTH