Minho was the first one to speak since the food had come. “Maybe we should just give in to those shuckfaces. Do what they want. One day we’ll all sit around, fat and happy.” Thomas knew he didn’t mean a word of it. “Yeah, maybe you can find a nice pretty girl who works here, settle down, get married and have kids. Just in time for the world to end in a sea of lunatics.” Minho kept at it. “WICKED’s going to figure out this blueprint business and we’ll all live happily ever after.

You’re disgusting when you eat,” Chuck said, sitting on the bench next to him. “It’s like watching a starving pig eat his own klunk.

What would I do without you? I'd die of stress and depression before nature killed me.

Awww," Minho said. "That's almost as sweet as that time she slammed the end of a spear into your shuck face.

Maybe you should just press the button

I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" . . . Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezed him as tightly as possible, as if that could somehow bring him back, or show thanks for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would. Thomas cried, wept like he'd never wept before. His great, racking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. (pg 358 hardback)

Things are really weird around here, and most of us don't know everything. Half of everything.