Veronica Roth Want Quotations

Every tattoo I got with them is a mark of their friendship, and almost every time I have laughed in this dark place was because of them. I don’t want to lose them. But I feel like I have already.

I don't want to stop you. I want you to stop yourself.

Tris.” I keep staring. “Tris.” I finally look at him. “I just don’t want to lose you.

We can’t survive alone, but even if we could, we wouldn't want to.

I want to break something, or hit something, but I am afraid to move, so I start crying instead.

Why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? It isn't. It isn't.

Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just...want to see it again. Want to see you awake.

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 do trust you, is what I want to say. But it isn't true -- I didn't trust him to love me despite the terrible things I had done. I don't trust anyone to do that, but that isn't his problem; it's mine.

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

I know some things--I know that I'm not alone, that I have friends, that I'm in love. I know that I don't want to die, and for me that's something--more than I could have said a few weeks ago.

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.

Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow. There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, "Beatrice." He laughs weakly. "Beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt.

I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.

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.

If I don't survive," I say, "tell Tobias I didn't want to leave him.

You're more than Dauntless," he says in a low voice. "But if you want to be just like them, hurling yourself into ridiculous situations for no reason and retaliating against your enemies without any regard for what's ethical, go right ahead. I thought you were better than that, but maybe I was wrong.

To find that place between what I want and what I think is wise.

Why do you say vague things if you don't want to be asked about them?

And sometimes, if you want the truth, you have to demand it.

When you're a writer, you hear your internal critic, and that's really hard to get over. And then sometimes you hear critiques from classmates and stuff. But when a book comes out, it's just hundreds of opinions and you have to learn to separate out the ones you want to listen to or figure out many you want to listen to.

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

Sometimes I just... want to see it again. Want to see you awake.

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.

Being honest doesn't mean you say whatever you want, wherever you want. It means that what you choose to say is true.

In that moment I know exactly what I want; I want to peel away all the layers of clothing between us, strip away everything that separates us, the past and the present and the future.

She wanted us to have more than five choices. Now we have none.

My father says that those who want power and get it live in terror of losing it. That's why we have to give power to those who do not want it.

Because there might come a day when there is no flashlight, there is no gun, there is no guiding hand. And I want to be ready for it." (divergent pg.138)

My mother told me once that we can't survive alone, but even if we could, we wouldn't want to. Without a faction we have no purpose and no reason to live.

I'm sick of doing bad things and liking it and then wondering what's wrong with me. I want it to be over. I want to start again.