Unhappiness is bondage; therefore, happiness is freedom.

But it's not about knowing. It is simply about going forward.

Live free or die. Four words. Thirteen letters. Ridges, bumps, swirls under my fingertips. Another story. We cling tightly to it, and our belief turns it to truth.

I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

Nobody ever said life was fair.

I don't love you, Lena. Do you hear me? I never love you.

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.