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I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.
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
Enough
Betrayed
Every
Betrayal
Make
Betray
Never
Hurts
Hurt
Stop
Part
Body
Hurting
More quotes by Veronica Roth
I laugh shakily. ‘You’re a little scary, Four.’ ‘Do me a favor,’ he says, ‘and don’t call me that.’ ‘What should I call you, then?’ ‘Nothing.’ He takes his hand from my face. ‘Yet.
Veronica Roth
But there's so much that was a lie, it's hard to figure out what was true, what was real, what matters.
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He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.
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Four grabs a bar with each hand and pulls himself up, easy, like he's sitting up in bed. But he is not comfortable or natural here--- every muscle in his arm stands out. it is a stupid thing for me to think when I am one hundred feet off the ground.
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Part of me wonders if this is a suicide mission disguised as a game.
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'Divergent' was my utopian world. I mean, that wasn't the plan. I never even set out to write dystopian fiction, that's just what I had when I was finished. At the beginning, I was just writing about a place I found interesting and a character with a compelling story, and as I began to build the world, I realized that it was my utopia.
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Can you be a girl for a few seconds? I'm always a girl I frown. You know what I mean. Like a silly, annoying girl I twirl my hair around my finger. Kay.
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When her body first hit the net, all I registered was a gray blur. I pulled her across it and her hand was small, but warm, and then she stood before me, short and thin and plain and in all ways unremarkable- except that she had jumped first. The stiff had jumped first. Even I didn't jump first. Her eyes were so stern, so insistent. Beautiful.
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Knowledge is power. Power to do evil...or power to do good. Power itself is not evil. So knowledge itself is not evil.
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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.
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Just as I have insisted on his worth, he has always insisted on my strength, insisted that my capacity is greater than I believe. And I know, without being told, that's what love does, when it's right-it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be. This is right.
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I can't force you. I can't make you want to survive this. He pulls me against him and runs his hand over my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers trail down my neck and over my shoulder, and he says, But you will do it. It doesn't matter if you believe you can or not. You will, because that's who you are.
Veronica Roth
Caleb and Tris exchange a look. The skin on his face and on her knuckles is nearly the same colour, purple-blue-green, as if drawn with ink. This is what happens when siblings collide - they injure each other in the same way.
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Since he saved me from the attack, I have associated his smell with safety, so as long as I focus on it, I feel safe now.
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Christina,'i say,'The factionless have all the guns.
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Everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.
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About when to let others sacrifice themselves for you, even if its selfish. They say that if the sacrifice is the ultimate way for that person to show you that they love you, let them do it.
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They all laugh. We all laugh. And it occurs to me that I might be meeting Tobias's true faction. They are not characterized by a particular virtue. They claim all colors, all activities, all virtues, and all flaws as their own.
Veronica Roth
Living without virtues is to live divorced from society, seperated from the most important thing in life, community.
Veronica Roth
Do I look like I’ve been crying?’ I say. ‘Hmm.’ He leans in close, narrowing his eyes like he’s inspecting my face. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Even closer, so we would be breathng the same air- if I could remember to breathe. ‘No, Tris,’ he says. A more serious look replaces his smile as he adds, ‘You look tough as nails.
Veronica Roth