Some of the worst things are done with the best intentions, Petra,” August said. “You shouldn’t have done this to me.

I’m sick of hearing it. I don’t think it’s right to stand by while innocent people are being tortured. I feel like that’s how most horrible things continue to happen. It’s because other people don’t step in to stop it.

She hated the old woman who had twisted her so in the name of love. Most humans didn’t love one another nohow, and this mislove was so strong that even common blood couldn’t overcome it all the time.

You need to tell me why it won’t work.”
“Because you’re seventeen and I’m eighteen. Because your first love isn’t supposed to last.

Then August knew. Thomas didn’t dwell on things. Thomas was strong, and he didn’t know what it was to be afraid. He knew he could get what he wanted, never questioning his identity or who he would be the next day.
He was everything August wasn’t, and that’s why August hated him.

An ignorant man, who is not fool enough to meddle with his clock, is however sufficiently confident to think he can safely take to pieces, and put together at his pleasure, a moral machine of another guise, importance and complexity, composed of far other wheels, and springs, and balances, and counteracting and co-operating powers. Men little think how immorally they act in rashly meddling with what they do not understand. Their delusive good intention is no sort of excuse for their presumption. They who truly mean well must be fearful of acting ill.