“I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn’t some faction archetype. But the Tris who’s trying as hard as she can to destroy herself … I can’t love her.”I want to scream. But not because I’m angry, because I’m afraid he’s right. My hands shake and I grab the hem of my shirt to steady them.He touches his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “I believe you’re still in there,” he says against my mouth. “Come back.”

“If you throw yourself into danger for no reason again, you will have become nothing more than a Dauntless adrenaline junkie looking for a hit, and I'm not going to help you do it." He spits the words out bitterly. "I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn't some faction archetype. But the Tris who's trying as hard as she can to destroy herself... I can't love her.”

“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.”

“My mouth goes dry. No factions? A world in which no one knows who they are or where they fit? I can't even fathom it. I imagine only chaos and isolation.'Tris p. 110”

“I touch his cheek, see my hand shake, and quickly pull itback. He grabs my wrist, places my palm back against hischeek, and closes his eyes like he’s in agony. Or bliss. Ormaybe both. Like he’s never been touched before.”

“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.”