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I laugh, mirthless, a mad laugh. I savor the scowl on her face, the hate in her eyes. She was like a machine she was cold and emotionless, bound by logic alone. And I broke her.

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
Eye
Machines
Scowl
Hate
Laugh
Savor
Like
Laughing
Bound
Cold
Machine
Alone
Mad
Eyes
Bounds
Face
Broke
Faces
Logic
Emotionless

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He is strong, and lithe, and certain. And he is mine.
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You want him to walk? Caleb demands. Are you insane? Did I shoot him in the leg? I say. No. He walks. Where do we go, Peter?
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Morning, I say. Shh, she says. If you don't acknowledge it, maybe it will go away.
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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.
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How have I never realized before that for all the strong, kind parts of him, there are also hurting, broken parts?
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Caleb runs up to me and folds me carefully in his arms. I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought I had gotten to the point where I didn’t need my brother anymore, but I don’t think such a point actually exists.
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Ignore them. They don't know what it is to make a difficult decision. You wouldn't have done it, I bet. That is only because I have been taught to be cautious when I don't know all the information, and you have been taught that risks can produce great rewards.
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Soon I will honor my parents by dying as they died. and if all they believed about death was true, soon I will join them in whatever comes next.
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Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.
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That night we push our cots just a little closer together, and look into each other's eyes in the moments before we fall asleep. When he finally drifts off, our fingers are twisted together in the space between the beds. I smile a little, and let myself go.
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You can't be fearless, remember? Because you still care about things. About your life.
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What? I ask. I'm developing a theory. And it is? She picks up her hamburger, grins, and says, That you have a death wish.
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Looking at her is like waking up.
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Yes, I say. Three of these flying birds. I touch my collarbone, marking the path of their flight - toward my heart. One for each member of the family I left behind.
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What makes you different, makes you dangerous.
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Sarcasm is always at someone's expense.
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His eyes search the crowd until they find my face. My heartbeat lives in my throat lives in my cheeks. I still don't understand, he says softly, how she knew that it would work.
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I didn't realize until that moment that Dauntless initiation had taught me an important lesson: how to keep going.
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I know that I'll be writing for young adults for a long time. Mostly because I just love the readers and the teachers and librarians that I interact with.
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Eric called Al's suicide brave, and he was wrong. My mother's death was brave. I remember how calm she was, how determined. It isn't just brave that she died for me it is brave that she did it without announcing it, without hesitation, and without appearing to consider another option.
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