You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist

And when we are with Alex, I might as well not be there. They speak in a language of whispers and giggles and secrets; their words are like a fairy-tale tangle of thorns, which place a wall between us.

Amor deliria nervosa isn't a disease of love. It's a disease of selfishness.

There are no happy endings, only breaks in the regular action.

What I meant was, you looked happier in the pictures.

And even if she isn’t—even if by some miracle, she survived the escape and has been squeezing out a living in the Wilds—she would never join forces with the resisters. She would never be violent or vengeful. Not Lena, who used to practically faint when she pricked a finger, who couldn’t even lie to a teacher about being late. She wouldn’t have the stomach for it.

I’ve always hated being looked at.