I note how calm she looks and how focused she is. She is well-practiced in the art of losing herself. I can't say the same of myself.

The truth is... you are hurting me. Not on purpose, I know that. But I love you and every second that you don´t love me back...it hurts.

Maybe there's more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time.

Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them.

It reminds me why I chose Dauntless in the first place: not because they are perfect, but because they are alive. Because they are free.

Change, like healing, takes time.

I'm not Dauntless - I'm Divergent. I am whatever I choose to be.

Are you asking me to undress, Tris?' A nervous laugh gurgles from my throat. 'Only ... partially

I'm Divergent. And I can't be controlled.

I pout my lower lip for a second, but then I grin as the pieces come together in my mind. "THAT'S why you like me!" I exclaim. "Because you're not very nice either! It makes so much more sense now.

Why is your heart racing Tris?

I can't just wear whatever when I go out because somebody might want to take a picture. People are, like, taking pictures of me in my car when I'm driving. It's crazy. I kind of hate it sometimes.

You don't get nothing and like it.

You get so much out of the extra effort that you put into looking your best.

You should turn around at the end of the day and say I really like that piece of work, or that piece of work sucked. Not, was that popular or wasn't it popular?

The line between what is known scientifically and what has to be assumed in order to support knowledge is impossible to draw. Memory itself is an internal rumour.

All our good works and good intentions can't solve our sin problem.

I'm a writer, not an actor. I want to write rather than perform. I'm looking forward to disappearing for a while.

Too much talking," I say. "Not enough running.

Sak, pain, love are limited human experiences. and only those who know their own frontiers, those knows the life, the rest is just passing time.

The human heart was such a complex organ, fragile and sturdy all at once.