Well, half of half our faction.' 'In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,' Lynn says.

He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.

I have realized that part of being Dauntless is being willing to make things more difficult for yourself in order to be self-sufficient.

If we stay together, I'll have to forgive you over and over again, and if you're still in this, you'll have to forgive me over and over again too. So forgiveness isn't the point. What I really should have been trying to figure out is whether we were still good for each other or not

I think they're going to force us to eat lots of cake and then take an unreasonably long nap.

It doesn't take skill to stand in a place were no bullets find you, or to fire into the dark and hit a man you didn't see.

By the time we leave, I have red lips and curled eyelashes, and I’m wearing a bright red dress. And there’s a knife strapped to the inside of my knee. This all makes perfect sense.