Dead people can be our heroes because they can't disappoint us later; they only improve over time, as we forget more and more about them.

That's the first time I've ever said those words out loud, and now I hear how strange they are. How many young men fear that there is a monster instead them? People are supposed to fear others, not themselves.

And now that you are out? How does the world seem to you?" he says. "Mostly the same," I say. "People are just divided by different things, fighting different wars.

Yes," Marcus says. "I understand that you are concerned -- that you all are concerned. You had never heard of the Divergent a week ago, and now all that you know is that they are immune to something to which you are susceptible, and that is a frightening thing. But I can assure you that there is nothing to be afraid of, as far as we are concerned." As he speaks, his head tilts and his eyebrows lift in sympathy, and I understand at once why some people like him. He makes you feel that if you just placed everything in his hands, he would take care of it.

I close my eyes. I don't expect Four to reassure me, and he makes no effort to, but I feel better standing here than I did out there among the people who are my friends, my faction.

She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love... That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own.

Some people believe that I will go nowhere, and maybe they're right, but maybe they're not.

Few people who are born into Abnegation choose to leave it. When they do, we remember.

Not writing is as important as writing - go out into the world and remember how interesting it, and the people in it, are.

Abnegation produces deeply serious people. People who automatically see things like need,” he says. “I’ve noticed that when people switch to Dauntless, it creates some of the same types. Erudite who switch to Dauntless tend to turn cruel and brutal. Candor who switch to Dauntless tend to become boisterous, fight-picking adrenaline junkies. And Abnegation who switch to Dauntless become . . . I don’t know, soldiers, I guess. Revolutionaries.

Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders, “people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.

I tell myself, as sternly as possible, that is how things work here. We do dangerous things and people die. People die, and we move on to the next dangerous thing. The sooner that lesson sinks in, the better chance I have at surviving initiation.

I do like to hit people-I like the explosion of power and energy, and the feeling that I am untouchable because I can hurt people. But I hate that part of myself, because it is the part of me that is the most broken

I settle into their pace. The uniform pounding of feet in my ears and the homogeneity of the people around me makes me believe that I could choose this. I could be subsumed into Abnegation’s hive mind, projecting always outward.

My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

I get the strange urge to hit my head against the wall. Other people's sobs make me feel uncomfortable.

You know what Abnegation used to say about pride?' 'Something unfavorable,I assume.' I laugh.' Obviously. They said it blinds people to the truth of what they are.

I don’t know what world you live in, but in mine, people only do things for you for one of two reasons. The first is if they want something in return. And the second is if they feel like they owe you something.

You don’t always have to smack people in the face with how strong you are

Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.

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

We don't know what's happened out there since they put us in here, or how many generations have lived and died since they did.We could be the last people left.

I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me--they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.

I never used to understand why people bothered to hold hands as they walked, but then he runs one of his fingertips down my palm, and I shiver and understand it completely

The division is based on knowledge, based on qualifications - but as I learned from the factionless, a system that relies on a group of uneducated people to do its dirty work without giving them a way to rise is hardly fair.

I used to think that when people fell in love, they just landed where they landed, and they had no choice in the matter afterward. And maybe that's true of beginnings, but it's not true of this, now.

Sometimes, all it takes to save people from a terrible fate is one person willing to do something about it. Even if that "something" is a fake bathroom break.

Is this Prior?" "In the flesh." "Why's he bleeding?" "Because he's an idiot." Zeke offers me a black jacket with a factionless symbol stitched into the collar. "I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose." I wrap the jacket around Caleb's shoulders and fasten one of the buttons over his chest. He avoids my eyes. "I think it's a new phenomenon.", I say.

People, even genetically damaged people, make choices. That’s what matters.’

All that land is filled with people, every one of them different, and the things they do to each other matter.

People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.

Some people will always fear change. But we can't indulge them.

It isn’t right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first.

The truth has a way of changing people's plans.

We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.

You need to be passionate about the creative work that you're doing, but you need to be kind of emotionally separated from how people react to it or how it does. Those things should be secondary, and primary should be your love of the creative act.

I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose.

I slowly realized that perfectionism just not that important. What's more important is to try to love the people around you. Whatever that means at a particular time is the best you can do.

Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.

We believe that peace is hard-won, That sometimes it is necessary to fight for peace. But more than that, we believe that Justice is more important than peace.

Well, technology is supposed to make life better," she says. "No matter what you believe, there's a technology out there for you.

We believe in the ordinary acts of bravery.

Psyche you out?" I repeat. "I'm your FRIEND. I wouldn't do that." He doesn't say anything. I can tell he doesn't believe me-not quite.

What do I believe? I do not know; I do not know; I do not know.

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.” I want to scream. But not because I’m angry, because I’m afraid he’s right. My hands shake and I grab the hem of my shirt to steady them. He touches his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “I believe you’re still in there,” he says against my mouth. “Come back.

Can I be forgiven for all I've done to get here? I want to be. I can. I believe it.

We believe in bravery. We believe in taking action. We believe in freedom from fear and in acquiring the skills to force the bad out of our world so that the good can prosper and thrive. If you also believe in those things, we welcome you.

I don't believe it is more important to move forward than to know the truth.

He should be the one to die, part of me thinks. I don't want to lose him, another part argues. I don't know which part to believe.

I can't force you. I can't make you want to survive this." He pulls me against him and runs his hand over my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers trail down my neck and over my shoulder, and he says, "But you will do it. It doesn't matter if you believe you can or not. You will, because that's who you are.