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I am wearing a gray shirt, blue jeans, black shoes--new clothes, but beneath them, my Dauntless tattoos. It is impossible to erase my choices. Especially these.

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
Clothes
Shirt
Especially
Jeans
Impossible
Beneath
Choices
Shirts
Black
Gray
Dauntless
Wearing
Tattoos
Shoes
Erase
Blue
Tattoo

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Cowardice is how you decide to be in real life
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Chaos and destruction do tend to take away a person's dating possibilities.
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He's one of the last friends I have, she says, her voice breaking. I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at you the same way again.
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Take away someone’s fear, or low intelligence, or dishonesty . . . and you take away their compassion. Take away someone’s aggression and you take away their motivation, or their ability to assert themselves. Take away their selfishness and you take away their sense of self-preservation.
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How is it I know this little about the boy who says he loves me-
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i happen to enjoy categorization.
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You don’t believe things because they make your life better, you believe them because they’re true.
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Tris, Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow. There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, Beatrice. He laughs weakly. Beatrice, he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt.
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That's the first time I've ever said those words out loud, and now I hear how strange they are. How many young men fear that there is a monster instead them? People are supposed to fear others, not themselves.
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Our ability to know about ourselves and the world is what makes us human
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Why are you constantly escorting me places?” I say. “Isn’t there a depraved activity you’re supposed to be taking part in? Kicking puppies or spying on girls while they change, or something?
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He touches my face, covering my cheeks with his hands, sliding his fingertips down my neck, fitting his fingers to the slight curve of my hips. I can't stop.
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Grabbing hold of facts in the midst of shock is very Erudite of him.
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I did not know that my entire personality, my entire being, could be discarded as the byproduct of my anatomy. What if I really am just someone with a large prefrontal cortex...and nothing more?
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It is amazing how pretending to be in a different faction changes everything -- even the way I walk. That must be why it's so strange that I could easily belong in three of them.
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I stare at him. I feel my heartbeat everywhere, even in my toes. I feel like doing something bold, but I could just as easily walk away. I am not sure which option is smarter, or better. I am not sure that I care.
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Like a wild animal, the truth is too powerful to remain caged.
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We could visit him, suggests Will. But what would we say? 'I didn't know you that well, but I'm sorry you got stabbed in the eye'?
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He pus his lips next to my ear and says, “You look good, Tris.
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How strange that something so simple could have been instrumental in my decision to ruin one of my most relationships and friendships, and damage another.
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