Being in love is a very strange thing. Your thoughts constantly drift towards this other person, no matter what you're doing.

Are you sure you want us to keep calling you 'Six'?" "You can say it's short for something." "For what? Sixty?

Being in love is a very strange thing. Your thoughts constantly drift towards this other person, no matter what you're doing.

Nine lies on his back, groaning. His chest is shredded from where Eight slashed him, he’s got a fresh black eye, and I think I notice a trickle of blood from where I struck him with his staff. Suddenly, his groans turn to laughter. “That was awesome!” Nine hollers.

That's another one of Sandor's rules for hiding in plain sight: always appear to be weaker than I actually am. Never push it.

In the beginning we were a group of nine. Three are gone, dead. There are six of us left. They are hunting us, and they won't stop until they've killed us all. I am Number Four. I know that I am next.

I've learned that some memories surprise you and reveal a sharp edge just when you least expect it.