Quotes from James Dashner

Like a book completely intact but missing one word every dozen, making it a miserable and confusing read.

What if he saved them? he thought. What if I saved my friends?

You quit treating people like animals and maybe I'll consider it.

I like how you call me Tom." Teresa rolled her eyes. "That's your name, isn't it?" "Yeah, but most people call me Thomas. Well, except Newt – he calls me Tommy. Tom makes me feel … like I'm at home or something. Even though I don't know what home is." He let out a bitter laugh. "Are we messed up or what?

Yeah, we've heard that before. This time we mean it. We're not going to sit back and let you treat us like rats anymore. We're done.

His friend Chuck, stabbed in the chest, bleeding, dying as Thomas held him.

You never have known when to shut your hole, have ya, Minho? Always gotta have the bloody last word.

Several minutes passed. Several more. Nothing but silence and darkness. "I think they're gone," Brenda whispered. She flicked on her torch. "Hello, noses!" a hideous voice yelled from the room. Then a bloody hand reached through the doorway and grabbed Thomas by the shirt.

Hey, I'm Newt," the boy whispered. "And I know bloody well who you are.

You're not … her." His voice, distant. A mere echo. "You could never be her.

Concern seemed to bleed his heart dry as they ran along.

Thomas knew what he thought. Those images would never leave—the Gladers would be haunted by the horrible things that had happened in the Maze for the rest of their lives. He figured that most if not all of them would have major psychological problems. Maybe even go completely nutso.

Everything we do is for a reason.

he didn't feel as if dying would be the easy way out.

You're all still here because of an uncanny will to survive despite the odds, among … other reasons.

He didn't know which was worse: that Newt seemed to be slipping already or that Minho—the one who should have been able to control himself—was acting like such a slinthead.

En su mente y en su corazón se había desencadenado una batalla de emociones. Confusión. Curiosidad. Pánico. Miedo. Pero mezclada con todo eso, había una oscura sensación de absoluta desesperanza, como si el mundo se hubiera acabado, borrado de su cabeza, y hubiese sido reemplazado por algo terrible. Quería correr y esconderse de esa gente.

With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.

Si no estás asustado -dijo-, no eres humano. Si actúas de otra manera, te voy a arrojar por el Acantilado porque eso querría decir que eres un enfermo.

It was such an odd thing to be fighting against something so violently and yet wanting it to happen so completely.

No. Just thinking about how much my life sucks." "Mine does, too. Sucks big-time. But I'm glad I'm with you.

The boy known as Newt had not been immune to the Flare. No, he hadn't been immune in the slightest, unlike most of his friends in the Maze. But he was the cure. Yes. That boy. The one named Newt, Subject A4, the Glue, brother to Sonya... The Cure.

What's there to be scared about? A post-apocalyptic city with no government or security, surrounded by a desert and swarming with Cranks. I mean, come on. Don't be a sissy.

The boy's bravery solidified something in Thomas's heart. He loved the kid. He loved him as if they had the same mum.