“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.”

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

Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It’s my choice.

It reminds me that no embrace will ever feel the same again, because no one will ever be like her again, because she’s gone. She’s gone, and crying feels so useless, so stupid, but it’s all I can do.

Cruelty does not make a person dishonest, the same way bravery does not make a person kind.

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.

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

You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.

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.

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

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Even closer, so we would be breathng the same air- if I could remember to breathe. ‘No, Tris,’ he says. A more serious look replaces his smile as he adds, ‘You look tough as nails.

I keep finding myself stifled by the company of others and then crippled by loneliness when I leave them.

I don’t want to stop you. I want you to stop yourself.

I’ll say it one last time: Be brave.

Tris.” I keep staring. “Tris.” I finally look at him. “I just don’t want to lose you.

At home I used to spend calm, pleasant nights with my family.

I suppose that now would be the time to ask for forgiveness for all the things I’ve done, but I’m sure my list would never be complete.

It would be at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the honor and glory of God.

I go train, and like with Conan, I’m in leather, and with Drogo, I’m in leather or armor or something else. I’m not in my adidas sweat suit or my matching tracksuit pants to go work out. I got too busy of a day. I’ve got my boots.

I won’t eat in a place that has suits of armor.

Take the armor off, so the arrow of the Truth can penetrate you.

The best armor is to keep out of range.

Beneath the armor of skin/and/bone/and/mind most of our colors are amazingly the same.

Ridicule may be a shield, but it is not a weapon.

Truth as my armour. My sword as my pen. I’ll do what I will to prevail again. Shining so brightly so they shot me down. Did they not know how hard I would bounce?