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No. Because it's so stupid no Dauntless with any sense would speak it, let alone think it. Pansycake. What are you, twelve? And a half, he says.
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
Would
Dauntless
Think
Twelve
Thinking
Stupid
Says
Alone
Half
Speak
Sense
Insurgent
More quotes by Veronica Roth
Caleb, I say, I love you. His eyes gleam with tear as he says, I love you, too, Beatrice.
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I should probably be afraid. But instead a hysterical laugh bubbles inside me, because I just remembered something: Maybe I can’t hold a gun. But I have a knife in my back pocket.
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I also don't believe that whatever come after life depends on my correctly reciting a list of my transgressions-that sounds too much like an Erudite afterlife to me, all accuracy and no feeling.
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Insurgent, he says. Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as a belligerent.
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His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.
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I would be shocked by the lack of security if we were not at Amity headquarters. They often straddle the line between trust and stupidity.
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Evil depends on where you're standing.
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A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.
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I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself. Hey, Peter, I say, Remember what a target is?
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Can I ask why you’re throwing knives at cheese?’ ‘Caleb came by to discuss something,’ Tobias says, leaning his head against the wall as he looks at me. ‘And knife-throwing just came up somehow.’ ‘As it so often does,’ I say, a small smile inching across my face.
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Scrubbing the floor when no one else wanted to was something that my mother would have done. If I can't be with her, the least I can do is act like her sometimes.
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We're all right, you know,' he says quietly. 'You and me. Okay?' My chest aches, and I nod. 'Nothing else is all right.' His whisper tickles my cheek. 'But we are.
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In some parts of the ancient world, the hawk symbolized the sun. Back when I got this, I figured if I always had the sun on me, I wouldn't be afraid of the dark
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Someone shouts, Enough! and I think too much and nothing at all.
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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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Politeness is deception in pretty packaging.
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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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Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.
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He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice.
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Sarcasm is always at someone's expense.
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