If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness.
― A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner .
I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.
I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
― Veronica Roth, Allegiant