Veronica Roth
Veronica Roth
Veronica Rothis an American novelist and short story writer known for her debut New York Times bestselling Divergent trilogy, consisting of Divergent, Insurgent, and Allegiant; and Four: A Divergent Collection. Divergent was the recipient of the Goodreads Favorite Book of 2011 and the 2012 winner for Best Young Adult Fantasy & Science Fiction...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth19 August 1988
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
Don't pretend", I say Breathily. "You know I'm not. I'm not ugly, but I am certainly not pretty." "Fine. You're not pretty. So?" He kisses my cheek. "I like how you look. You're deadly smart. You're brave.
You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it.
I started writing because I decided I was too old to play pretend in the backyard. Then I found that I could create those imaginary worlds on the page.
No selfishness or insecurity kept him from seeing the full extent of her goodness, as it so often does with the rest of us. That kind of love may only be possible in Abnegation. I do not know.
Relax Beatrice, I've driven a car before.' MARCUS 'I've done a lot of things before, but that doesn't mean I'm any good at them!' TRIS
So this is where you grew up. Did you like it here? I guess you couldn't have, if you wanted to leave.' CHRISTINA 'I liked some things and hated some things. And there were some things I didn't know I had until I lost them.' TRIS
Oh for god's sake. I'll just carry you.
I don't believe it is more important to move forward than to know the truth.
Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt
Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right?” I say. “No, I’m pretty sure you’re not all right.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to ask you not to make any decisions until we’ve talked about it.
Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide- open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.
It is impossible to erase my choices.
Be brave, Beatrice. I love you.
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.