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.
Then I realize what it is. It’s him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.
Human reason can excuse any evil; that is why it’s so important that we don’t rely on it.
Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.
You don’t believe things because they make your life better, you believe them because they’re true.
Resisting is worth doing.
That’s what love does. When it’s right, it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be.
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.
I notice, however, that Peter only pretends to inject himself – when he presses the plunger down, the fluid runs down his throat, and he wipes it casually with a sleeve. I wonder what it feels like to volunteer to forget everything.
Which means that in order to defeat her, I have to think of a way to defeat myself. And how can I be a better fighter than myself, if she knows the same strategies I know, and is exactly as resourceful and clever as I am?
It’s not a perfect situation. But when you have to choose between two bad options, you pick the one that saves the people you love and believe in most. You just do. Okay?
I am too strong to break so easily, and I become better, sharper, every time I touch him.
Maybe forgiveness is just the continual pushing aside of bitter memories, until time dulls the hurt and anger, and the wrong is forgotten.
It’s not cruelty, maybe, but a desire to understand that motivates them.
He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It’s my choice.
It’s Not sacrifice if it’s someone else’s life you’re giving away, it’s just evil.
Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage.
I feel empty, not because of sadness, but because of relief, all the tension flowing out of me.
It doesn’t take skill to stand in a place were no bullets find you, or to fire into the dark and hit a man you didn’t see.
I don’t have a bullet in my head, do I? So I’m fine.