Every question that can be answered must beanswered or at least engaged. Illogical thought processes must bechallenged when they arise.Wrong answers must be corrected.Correct answers must be affirmed. —From the Erudite faction manifesto

I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn’t some faction archetype. But the Tris who’s trying as hard as she can to destroy herself … I can’t love her.

People are supossed to aspire to become their fathers, not shudder at the thought.

All I want to say is that when you stop being delusional and start feeling desperate because you're too inept to figure this out on your own, you know who to come to.

I should probably be afraid. But instead a hysterical laugh bubbles inside me, because I just remembered something: Maybe I can’t hold a gun. But I have a knife in my back pocket.

Sometimes it isn't fighting that's brave, its facing the death you know is coming.

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife?