“Are you ever afraid to go to sleep? Afraid of what comes next?”He smiles a sad little smile and I swear it’s like he knows. “Sometimes I’m afraid of what I’m leaving behind,” he says.”

“Are you afraid of falling, baby?No, I’m afraid of landing.[He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.]Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?”

“Sometimes I'm afraid to go to sleep because of what I'm leaving behind.”

“It’s more that I’m afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I’m supposed to be… to find my place in the world before I have to leave it. I’m afraid of what I’ll miss.”

“If he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet behind, and then I don't know what would happen to his head! I'm afraid it would come off!”

“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.”