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I feel like what I have become is halfway between my mother and my father, violent and impulsive and desperate and afraid. I feel like I have lost control of what I have become.

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
Feel
Desperate
Feels
Violent
Like
Afraid
Control
Father
Lost
Mother
Impulsive
Become
Halfway

More quotes by Veronica Roth

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I met him while I was imprisoned, I say, and my voice sounds far away even to me. I was just curious. I wouldn't judge him too harshly, says Fernando. Jeanine can be extraordinarily persuasive to those who aren't naturally suspicious. I have always been naturally suspicious. ... Yeah, I say. So have I.
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Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.
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I used to go outside every day and invent these elaborate worlds and scenarios in my head, and when I grew too old for playing pretend, I started to write everything down instead.
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His fingers slide into my hair, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as we press together like two blades at a stalemate. He is stronger than anyone I know, and warmer than anyone else realizes he is a secret that I have kept, and will keep for the rest of my life.
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She is well practiced in the art of losing herself.
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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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All I want is to become someone new. In this case, Tobias Johnson, son of Evelyn Johnson. Tobias Johnson may have lived a dull and empty life, but he is at least a whole person, not this fragment of a person that I am, too damaged by pain to become anything useful.
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Dauntless: being brave in the midst of fear.
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Tris.” I keep staring. “Tris.” I finally look at him. “I just don’t want to lose you.
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Well, half of half our faction.' 'In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,' Lynn says.
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A breeze blows through the alley, pushing me to one side, and I think of scaling the Ferris wheel with Tobias. He kept me steady then. There is no one left to keep me steady now.
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I point at a window to my left, and it explodes. Particles of glass rain over us. ‘You’ll have to do better than that,' I say.
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How is it I know this little about the boy who says he loves me -- the boy whose real name is powerful enough to keep us alive in a train car full of enemies?
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We share a common enemy, but does that make us friends?
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The first step to loving someone else is to recognize the evil in ourselves, so we can forgive them.
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To me, when someone wrongs you, you both share the burden of that wrongdoing—the pain of it weighs on both of you. Forgiveness, then, means choosing to bear the full weight all by yourself.
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I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me--they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.
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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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What good is a prepared body if you have a scattered mind?
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If utopian fiction became the new trend, I wouldn't read it.
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