Fear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.
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?
I would rather be dead than empty.
He kisses me again, more insistent this time, his hands squeezing my waist. His breaths, his body, my body, we are so close there is no difference.
Suicide to them is an act of selfishness. Someone who is truly selfless does not think of himself often enough to desire death.
Trust me when I tell you, Eaton boy, that resisting is worth doing.