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— Veronica Roth"This was the first place I everfelt strong. Every time I breathe this air I feel it again."
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And he's pressing into her and she into him, bodies shivering, like they are two scared, lost children, starving, starving to be touched, to be held, by someone, anyone, the first one they can find who seems familiar enough, safe enough, strong enough to rescue them. They breathe, heavy. Hard. Their fingers strain at cotton. And then they slow down. Stop. Hold. Rest. Before one of them, or both, begins to sob. Before they break another piece that needs to be fixed.
— Lisa McMann
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A sob racks my body again, and he wraps his arms around me so tightly I find it difficult to breathe, but it doesn't matter. My dignified weeping gives way to full-on ugliness, my mouth open and my face contorted and sounds like a dying animal coming from my throat. If this continues I will break apart, and maybe that would be better, maybe it would be better to shatter and bear nothing.
— Veronica Roth
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