My Tris should look pale and small--she is pale and small, after all--but instead the room is full of her.

Please. They're like the Cult of Four.

I am wearing a gray shirt, blue jeans, black shoes--new clothes, but beneath them, my Dauntless tattoos. It is impossible to erase my choices. Especially these.

You know what mom told me once? She said that everyone has some evil inside them, and the first step to loving anyone is to recognize the same evil in ourselves, so we're able to forgive them.

I catch myself thinking 'Thank God For This' out of habit, and then I understand what he's so concerned about. What if my parents' God, their whole belief system, is just something concocted by a bunch of scientists to keep us under control? And not just their beliefs about God and whatever else is out there, about right and wrong, about selfishness?

You're afraid of heights,'I say. 'How do you survive in the Dauntless compound?' 'I ignore my fear,' he (Four) says. 'When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist.

I want people to come away from my book with questions. Questions about virtue and goodness. Not answers.