To find that place between what I want and what I think is wise.

Sometimes I just... want to see it again. Want to see you awake.

But I think that no matter how smart, people usually see what they're already looking for, that's all.

She walks away, and I am too stunned to follow her. At the end of the hallways she turns and says, "Have a piece of cake for me, all right? The chocolate. It's delicious." She smiles a strange, twisted smile, and adds," I love you, you know." And then she's gone. I stand alone in the blue light coming from the lamp above me, and I understand: She has been to the compound before. She remembered this hallways. She knows about the initiation process. My mother was a dauntless.

This concept could easily have gone awry. Stories about love tend to go that way sometimes. They wander into the realm of cheese and never return, which I think is a shame, because there is a way to write about romantic love without breaking out the Velveeta.

Human reason can excuse any evil; that is why it's so important that we don't rely on it.

Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you," I say. "Controlling you is.