Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it.
Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up
We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.
Who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable.
I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different.
Fine," he says. "Then I love you.
Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them.
I have something I need to tell you," he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hands and look back at him. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though." "That's sensible of you," I say, smiling too. "We should find some paper so you can make a list or a chart or something." I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing my ear. "Maybe I'm already sure," he says, "and I just don't want to frighten you." I laugh a little. "Then you should know better." "Fine," he says. "Then I love you.
I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am not Abnegation. I am not Dauntless. I am Divergent.
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.
Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.
A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.
I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater. But sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life. That is the sort of bravery I must have now.
My first instinct is to push you until you break just to see how hard I have to press.
We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.
There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved for the sake of something greater.
Sometimes I just... want to see it again. Want to see you awake.
People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.
Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing.' 'Well,' he says, 'I would only go if there was cake.
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.
It must require bravery to be honest all the time.
He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife?
You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong." He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin. "My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.
The divergent series are the invention of the devil, and it is a shame to base on them any demonstration whatsoever. By using them, one may draw any conclusion he pleases and that is why these series have produced so many fallacies and so many paradoxes.
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