But then I realize that even if I did have a soul, it’s not as though someone else would be there. It would only be more of me.

— Ally Condie

Cassia. I know which life is my real one now, no matter what happens. It’s the one with you. For some reason, knowing that even one person knows my story makes things different. Maybe it’s like the poem says. Maybe this is my way of not going gentle. I love you. (Ky Markham)

— Ally Condie

Did you know Grandfather would give the poems to me?” I ask.“We thought he might,” my mother says.”Why didn’t you stop him?”“We didn’t want to take away your choices,” my mother says.”But Grandfather never did tell me about the Rising,” I say.”I think he wanted you to find your own way,” my mother says. She smiles. “In that way, he was a true rebel. I think that’s why he chose that argument with your father as his favorite memory. Though he was upset when the fight happened, later he came to see that your father was strong in choosing his own path, and he admired him for it.

— Ally Condie

Do not go gentle. So I fight. I fight the only way I know how.

— Ally Condie

Ever since the day of the mistake with my Match. I've never known which life is my true one. Even with the reassurances of the Official that day in the green space, I think a part of me hasn't felt at peace. It was as though I saw for the first time that life could branch into different paths, take different directions.

— Ally Condie

Everyone dies. The don't all have the chance to see what they wanted most. At least I've seen the Above. At least I've known True.

— Ally Condie

Everyone has something of beauty about them. But loving lets you look, and look, and look again. You notice the back of a hand, the turn of a head, the way of a walk. When you first love, you look blind, and you see it all as the glorious, beloved whole, or a beautiful sum of beautiful parts. But when you see the one you love as pieces, as why's, you can love those parts too, and it's a love at once more complicated and more complete.

— Ally Condie

For one entire day I let his kiss burn on my cheek and into my blood and I don't push the memory away... This kiss, these words, they feel like beginning.

— Ally Condie

For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey between footsteps makes up our lives

— Ally Condie

For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey between footsteps makes up our lives.

— Ally Condie