But Amy," Elder says. "Space suits!

— Beth Revis

Choice or no, my heart is his.

— Beth Revis

Don’t you understand? You are Elder. When you take my role as Eldest, you must dedicate your whole life to this one idea: you are the caretaker of every single person on the ship. They are your responsibility. You can never show weakness in front of them: you are their strength. You can never let them see you in despair: you are their hope. Furthermore, you must always be everything to everyone on board.

— Beth Revis

(D)reams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't.

— Beth Revis

Elder mocked me for praying once, and I spent an hour berating him for that. He ended up throwing his hands, laughing, and telling me I could believe whatever I wanted if I was going to hold onto my beliefs so hard.

— Beth Revis

Eldest taught me about ancient religions that worshiped the sun. I never understood why- it's just a ball of light and heat. But if the sun of Sol-Earth swirls in colors and lights like that girl's hair, well, I can see why the ancients would worship that.

— Beth Revis

Ella!" the voice yells, but I cannot tell where it is coming from. The sound wraps around me, spreading like spilled water and then evaporating into silence.

— Beth Revis

Ella!” the voice yells, but I cannot tell where it is coming from. The sound wraps around me, spreading like spilled water and then evaporating into silence.“Where am I?” I whisper again. The darkness stretches out for eternity. I take a few steps forward, but the feeling is surreal—I cannot tell if I’ve actually moved or not, because everything is nothing. I feel something wet and warm slide down my cheek, and I touch the tear with my fingertips, swiping it away. Representative Belles is dead. I’m certain of that now. He’s gone. I’m… I’m in the place where he was, and now he’s gone, and now I’m stuck. Furthermore, I’m stuck in the nothingness of a dead body, and I don’t know how to get out. My heart thuds against my chest, and I gasp for air. What if I can never get out? What if eternity is nothing more than me, alone, in the darkness? Trapped in someone else’s death. I collapse, but it’s not like I fall on the floor. There is no floor. There was the illusion of one, but as my body gives way, I realize that I’m floating. I stretch out, my fingers and toes aching to feel, but there’s nothing, nothing at all, and I draw myself into myself, hugging my legs, my knees tucked under my chin. I’m alone. Maybe when Representative Belles died, I died too. Maybe this is it.

— Beth Revis

Everyone, this is the new girl. Elder knows her. New girl, this is everyone.” A few people look up politely; some actually smile. Most, however, look wary at best, disgusted at worse. The nurse closest to me jabs her finger behind her ear and starts whispering to nobody.“What’s wrong with her?” I ask Harley as he leads me to the table he was sitting at.“Oh, don’t worry, we’re all mad here.” I giggle, mostly from nerves. “It’s a good thing I read Alice in Wonder-land. I definitely think I’ve fallen into the rabbit hole.”“Read what?” Harley asks.“Never mind.” All around me, eyes follow my every move.“Look,” I say loudly. “I know I look different. But I’m just a person, like you.” I hold my head up high, looking them all in the eyes, trying to hold their stares for as long as possible.“You tell ’em,” says Harley with another Cheshire grin.

— Beth Revis

FAILURE IS INEVITABLE. I will fail. We all will. And having failed, and gotten back up, and failed again, taught me that I can survive failure. This is a downfall in most modern stories: the hero always wins. Because while this story is inspiring, it’s also false. In reality, not everyone wins. It’s 100% true that no one wills all the time, and we expect that—every hero must fall at least once. But it’s also 100% true that some people never win at all, and that’s the thing we try so hard to ignore behind the pretty stories. I could spend the rest of my life trying to be a prime ballerina, and it would not happen. I would fail at that for the rest of my life. FAILURE TEACHES US WHO WE ARE. Because even though I know I would fail forever at being a prime ballerina, I also know that I am not someone who should be a prime ballerina. It’s not who I am, it’s not what I want. Of course, I would fail at it.

— Beth Revis