Quote

Drink this, she says. What is it? my throat feels swollen. I swallow hard. What's going to happen? Can't tell you that. Just trust me. I press air from my lungs and tip the contents of the vial into my mouth. My eyes close.

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
Going
Says
Presses
Happen
Press
Eyes
Mouth
Vial
Eye
Mouths
Swollen
Tell
Air
Contents
Happens
Close
Swallow
Hard
Drink
Lungs
Feels
Trust
Throat

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My dear girl. I am his family. I am permanent. You are only temporary.
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Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you.
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But when I do feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I think I cry, then, or at least I want to, and everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.
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In order to have peace, we must first have trust.
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When you're a writer, you hear your internal critic, and that's really hard to get over. And then sometimes you hear critiques from classmates and stuff. But when a book comes out, it's just hundreds of opinions and you have to learn to separate out the ones you want to listen to or figure out many you want to listen to.
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Beatrice, she says. Beatrice, we have to run. She pulls my arm across her shoulders and hauls me to my feet. She is dressed like my mother and she looks like my mother, but she is holding a gun, and the determined look in her eyes is unfamiliar to me.
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Sometimes it isn't fighting that's brave, its facing the death you know is coming.
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Welcome to the Amity compound, Johanna's eyes fix on my face, and she smiles crookedly. Let us take care of you.
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The theory is that if you spill all your secrets, you'll have no desire to lie about anything, ever again. Like the worst about you is already in the open, so why not just be honest?
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The Candor sing the praises of the truth, but they never tell you how much it costs.
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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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Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.
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Suicide to them is an act of selfishness. Someone who is truly selfless does not think of himself often enough to desire death.
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It would be nice if life worked this way, stripping the dirt from our lives and sending us back out into the world clean. But some dirt is destined to lingered.
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I should wonder what courage—which is the virtue they most value—has to do with a metal ring through your nostril.
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All I can do is stand still- I feel like if I just stand still, I can stop it from being true, I can pretend that everything is all right.
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People talk about the pain of grief, but I don't know what they mean. To me, grief is a devastating numbness, every sensation dulled.
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I'll be your family now, he says. I love you, I say. He stares at me. I wait with my hands clutching his arms for stability as he considers his response. He frowns at me. Say it again. Tobias, I say, I love you.
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