The official strategy is defensive pessimism, always.

She'll have to get over it, then. Are you going to let her drop out of Dauntless for a stupid reason like not being able to walk?" Zeke is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shift over my face, and he squints, as if weighing and measuring me. Then he turns and bends and wraps his arms around me. it's been so long since someone hugged me that I stiffen. Then I relax, and let the gesture force warmth over my body.

It's easy to be brave when they're not my fears.

A sob racks my body again, and he wraps his arms around me so tightly I find it difficult to breathe, but it doesn't matter. My dignified weeping gives way to full-on ugliness, my mouth open and my face contorted and sounds like a dying animal coming from my throat. If this continues I will break apart, and maybe that would be better, maybe it would be better to shatter and bear nothing.

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other.

You don't have to tell me everything right away, but I have to tell you everything right away? Can't you see how stupid that is?

She can't possibly be me, though she moves when I move