I'm not Dauntless - I'm Divergent. I am whatever I choose to be.
"What did you do?" I scream. "You die, I die too."
The violent illiteracies of the graffiti, the clenched silence of the adolescent, the nonsense cries from the stage-happening, are resolutely strategic. The insurgent and the freak-out have broken off discourse with a cultural system which they despise as a cruel, antiquated fraud. They will not bandy words with it. Accept, even momentarily, the conventions of literate linguistic exchange, and you are caught in the net of the old values, of the grammars that can condescend or enslave.
You're too important to just... die.
I pout my lower lip for a second, but then I grin as the pieces come together in my mind. "THAT'S why you like me!" I exclaim. "Because you're not very nice either! It makes so much more sense now.
It is a gift. You cannot earn it, or it ceases to be a gift.
I figured I would shoot the bullets out of my nostrils, so I left [the gun] upstairs.
We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.
Capturing any member of any terrorist cell or any insurgent cell that we may happen to come across is always very, very valuable, and the thing that interests me is that in most instances after a time people talk and they tell us what they know.
May the peace of God be with you," she says, her voice low, "even in the midst of trouble." "Why would it?" I say softly, so no one else can hear. "After all I've done..." "It isn't about you," she says. "It is a gift. You cannot earn it, or it ceases to be a gift.
I don't know how much longer I can complain.
We're all right, you know,' he says quietly. 'You and me. Okay?' My chest aches, and I nod. 'Nothing else is all right.' His whisper tickles my cheek. 'But we are.
Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you.
One choice can transform you!
Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion.
Cruelty does not make a person dishonest, the same way bravery does not make a person kind.
I am his, and he is mine, and it has been that way all along.
Like a wild animal, the truth is too powerful to remain caged.
Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you," I say. "Controlling you is.
What do you think they're going to do to us when they find us guilty?" she says after a few minutes of silence have passed. "Honestly?" "Does now seem like the time for honesty?" I look at her from the corner of my eye. "I think they're going to force us to eat lots of cake and then take an unreasonably long nap.
Be careful, though." "Aren't I always?" "No, I think the word for how you usually are is 'reckless.
Nothing else is all right.” His whisper tickles my cheek. “But we are.
"What did you do?” This time the question tears from my throat like a growl. I throw myself toward him. “What did you do?” I scream. “You die, I die too. I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions."
I do know who you are. I just needed to be reminded.
The truth has a way of changing people's plans.
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