If you don't kill all of us all at once, those who remain will not be the weak. It's the strong who remain, the bent but unbroken, like the iron rods that used to give this concrete its strength.

— Rick Yancey

If you leave without me, I’ll just follow you. You can’t stop me, Cassie. How are you going to stop me?” I shrug helplessly, fighting back tears. “Shoot you, I guess.”“Like you shot the Crucifix Soldier?” The words hit me like a bullet between the shoulder blades. I whirl around and fling open the door. He flinches, but stands his ground.“How do you know about him?” Of course, there’s only one way he could know. “You read my diary.”“I didn’t think you were going to live.”“Sorry to disappoint you.”“I guess I wanted to know what happened—”“You’re lucky I left the gun downstairs, or I would shoot you right now. Do you know how creepy that makes me feel, knowing you read that? How much did you read?” He lowers his eyes. A warm red blush spreads across his cheeks.“You read all of it, didn’t you?” I’m totally embarrassed. I feel violated and ashamed. It’s ten times worse than when I first woke up in Val’s bed and realized he had seen me naked. That was just my body. This was my soul. I punch him in the stomach. There’s no give at all; it’s like I hit a slab of concrete.“I can’t believe you,” I shout. “You sat there—just sat there—while I lied about Ben Parish. You knew the truth, and you just sat there and let me lie!

— Rick Yancey

I give her my best smile. Before the alien Armageddon happened, I was known for my smile. Not bragging too much, but I had to be careful never to smile while I drove. It had the capacity to blind oncoming traffic. But it has absolutely no effect on Ringer. She doesn't squint in its overwhelming luminescence. She doesn't even blink.

— Rick Yancey

I'm a little panicky when I realize he's not here. It's a lot easier to push down my doubt when he's with me. When I can see those eyes the color of melted chocolate and hear his deep voice that falls over me like a warm blanket on a cold night.

— Rick Yancey

I may be the last one, but I am the one still standing. I am the one turning to face the faceless hunter in the woods on an abandoned highway. Furthermore, I am the one not running, not staying, but facing. Because if I am the last one, then I am humanity. And if this is humanity's last war, then I am the battlefield

— Rick Yancey

In the 4th Wave, you can't trust that people are still people. But you can trust that your gun is still your gun.

— Rick Yancey

In the early days, it was nearly omnipresent, a constant background noise, like the hum of traffic on a busy highway: the sound of a human being in pain.

— Rick Yancey

In the nineteenth century, The Romantics viewed Nature as benign, a glowing reflection of God's grace. Now we know better. Nature is brutal and, if it is feminine, she's not the kind of woman you can trust. Human beings may be her finest achievement yet, but when you get right down to brass tacks, we're meat. AIDS and organisms like streptococcus don't give a crap that we subdued the earth or produced a Shakespeare...

— Rick Yancey

I prefer not to call them demons. It demeans their nature. "But isn't that what they are?"" We should pity them more than fear them Alfred. They were angels once."" Yea, but didn't you say they rebelled against God? They got what they deserved."" Perhaps." He sighed. "Yet do we not all hope and pray that we ourselves escape that we truly deserve? None have fallen as far or as irrevocably as the outcasts of heaven. Did you not find them beautiful." "... They have gazed upon the very face of God, the face they will see no more for all eternity-and, so I pity them. Even as I envy them for having seen it.

— Rick Yancey

I should have asked, I guess,” he says. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”“What?” He rotates around on his butt to face me. Me on the sofa, him on the floor, looking up. “That I was going with you.”“What? We weren’t even talking about that! And why would you want to go with me, Evan? Since you think he’s dead?”“I just don’t want you to be dead, Cassie.

— Rick Yancey