If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you are a coward.

I love you," I say. I said that once, before I went to Erudite headquarters, but he was asleep then. I don't know why I didn't say it when he could hear it. Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion. Or afraid that I did not know what it was to love someone. But now I think the scary thing was not saying it before it was too late. Not saying it before it was almost too late for me.

Take a person’s memories, and you change who they are.

How strange that something so simple could have been instrumental in my decision to ruin one of my most relationships and friendships, and damage another.

He told me once to be brave, and though I have stood still while knives spun toward my face and jumped off a roof, I never thought I would need bravery in the small moments of my life. I do.

We may both be bad, but there’s a huge difference between us—I’m not content with being this way.

There are men with guns up there. When they see me, they will kill me, if they can," I tell my father quietly. I search his eyes. "Should I let them?" He stares at me for a few seconds. "Go," he says, "and God help you.