Quote

His hand touches my waist, steadies me. The touch sends a shock through my body, and all my insides burn like his fingers ignited them. I pull close to him, pressing my body against his, and lift my head to kiss him.

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
Hand
Shock
Insides
Hands
Pull
Waist
Body
Kiss
Pressing
Like
Kissing
Sends
Fingers
Touches
Touch
Lift
Close
Burn
Steadies
Head
Lifts
Ignited

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I have to admit that Christina is good—though I don’t like giving credit to Candor smart-mouths—and so is Peter—though I don’t like giving credit to future psychopaths.
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The opinions of others cannot damage you.
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My heart beats so hard it hurts, and I can't scream and I can't breathe, but I also feel everything, every vein and every fiber, every bone and every nerve, all awake and buzzing in my body as if charged with electricity. I am pure adrenaline.
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Cruelty does not make a person dishonest, the same way bravery does not make a person kind.
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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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In 'Insurgent' we realise how large the world really is
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You may have succeeded in shutting down the attack simulation, girl, but it was by luck alone, not skill. I would die of shock if you managed to do anything useful again for a long time This is the Marcus that Tobias knows. The one who knows right where to hit to cause the most damage.
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He smiles in my memory. A curled lip. Straight teeth. Light in his eyes. Laughing, teasing, more alive in memory than I m in reality. It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.
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In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life.
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I also wanted to ask you if we can talk to the Erudite you're keeping safe here, I say. I know they're hidden, but I need access to them. And what do you intend to do? she says. Shoot them, I say, rolling my eyes. That isn't funny.
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Can you tell me where to find Tobias'? I ask. When I imagine his face, affection for him bubbles up inside of me and all I want to do is kiss him. 'Four, I mean. He's so handsome, isn't he? I don't really understand why he likes me so much. I'm not very nice, am I?' -Tris
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Sorry, am I being rude? she asks. I'm used to saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging
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Living without virtues is to live divorced from society, seperated from the most important thing in life, community.
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I'm not Dauntless - I'm Divergent. I am whatever I choose to be.
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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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You won, Four mutters. Stop. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. He stares at me. His eyes are too wide they look alarmed.
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In the days that follow, it's movement, not stillness, that helps to keep the grief at bay.
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I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.
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Who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable.
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Looking at her is like waking up.
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