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I hold the gun out from my body, my arms straight, just as Four taught me, when that was his only name. I used a gun like this to defend my father and brother from simulation-bound Dauntless. I used it to stop Eric from shooting Tobias in the head. It is not inherently evil. It is just a tool.

Veronica Roth

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Veronica Roth
Age: 36
Born: 1988
Born: August 19
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
New York City
New York
Veronica Anne Roth
Evil
Arms
Defend
Father
Hold
Bound
Taught
Bounds
Simulation
Used
Name
Shooting
Tobias
Body
Head
Gun
Dauntless
Like
Stop
Straight
Inherently
Names
Tools
Eric
Four
Brother
Tool

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Human beings as a whole cannot be good for long before the bad creeps back in and poisons us again.
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You're the one who has to live with your choice, everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will
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Sometimes I feel like there is so much to be afraid of, and sometimes I feel like there is nothing left to fear.
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You don’t always have to smack people in the face with how strong you are
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The floor is solid metal in some places and metal grating in others. Everything smells like rotting garbage and fire. Don't say I never took you anywhere nice, Peter says. Wouldn't dream of it, I say.
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I don't believe it is more important to move forward than to know the truth.
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...there is power in self-sacrifice.
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I forgot my watch. Minutes or hours later, when the panic subsides, that is what I most regret. Not coming here in the first place - that seemed like an obvious choice - but my bare wrist, which makes it impossible for me to know how long I have been sitting in this room. My back aches, which is some indication, but it is not definite enough.
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It's when you're acting selflessly that you are at your bravest. --Four in Divergent
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He pulls me over the railing and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.
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I can't tell him I need him. I can't need him, period -- or really, we can't need each other, because who knows how long either of us will last in this war?
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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.
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You think giving you a hug would give away too much? he says. You know, I say. I really don't care. I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. It is the best moment of my life.
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Someone shouts, Enough! and I think too much and nothing at all.
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Noise and activity are the refuges of the bereaved and the guilty.
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Did you just call me BEATRICE?
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When i get home, I sit on the front step and take deep breaths of the cool spring air for a few minutes. My mother was the one who taught me to steal moments like those, moments of freedom, though she didn't now it. I watched her... But I learned something else from watching her too, which is that the free moments always have to end.
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He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife?
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I take a deep breath. I'm not sure where that swell of desperation came from, but know that I've acknowledge it, it's impossible to ignore, like a living thing has awakened from a long sleep inside me. It writhes in my stomach and throat. I need to leave. I need the truth.
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We could visit him, suggests Will. But what would we say? 'I didn't know you that well, but I'm sorry you got stabbed in the eye'?
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