It is amazing how pretending to be in a different faction changes everything – even the way I walk. That must be why it’s so strange that I could easily belong in three of them.
Half of bravery is perspective.
It’s easy to be brave when they’re not my fears.
Fear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.
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?
I didn’t realize until that moment that Dauntless initiation had taught me an important lesson: how to keep going.
I like to think I’m helping them by hating them. I’m reminding them that they aren’t God’s gift to humankind.
I ignore my fear. When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn’t exist.
But maybe what I saw as fearless was actually fear under control.
I need the protection of seeming weak.
And I’m the kind of person who does not let inconsequential things like boys and near death experiences stop her.
I am fed up. I am fed up with tears and weakness. But there isn’t much I can do to stop them.
I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.
I note how calm she looks and how focused she is. She is well-practiced in the art of losing herself. I can’t say the same of myself.
Someone shouts, “Enough!” and I think too much and nothing at all.
And sometimes, if you want the truth, you have to demand it.
Sometimes it isn’t fighting that’s brave, its facing the death you know is coming.
My father says that those who want power and get it live in terror of losing it. That’s why we have to give power to those who do not want it.
Grabbing hold of facts in the midst of shock is very Erudite of him.
Did you just call me BEATRICE?