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
It isn’t right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first.
I feel like myself, strong and weak at once - allowed, at least for a little while, to be both.
She can't possibly be me, though she moves when I move
Human reason can excuse any evil.
No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens.
We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.
We kiss again and this time, it feels familiar. I know exactly how we fit together, his arm around my waist, my hands on his chest, the pressure of his lips on mine. We have each other memorized.
You don’t believe things because they make your life better, you believe them because they’re true.
It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice.
That's what love does. When it's right, it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be.
The truth has a way of changing people's plans.
I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.
But when I do feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I think I cry, then, or at least I want to, and everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.
Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.