Quotes from James Dashner

We will find the cure, ma'am. I give you my word.

dangerous task of their lives,

Nothing in my life had prepared me to see things that were strange or beyond belief. I was a simple kid in a simple town in a simple family. But what I saw then, right after the collapse of the woman, ripped the "simple" out of my understanding of the rules of the world, and changed my life forever.

Thomas let out a slight laugh. "The Maze. The Grievers. WICKED. You name it.

sometimes knowing sucked.

runtcheeks down

So where is it?" Newt asked, leaning forward in his chair. "Over the Cliff," Thomas answered. "We have to go through the Griever Hole.

it was impossible to get into—unless you were extremely rich, famous, or high up on the criminal chain. Or, of course, a politician, which would make you all of the above.

Watch out for the ugly man with no ears.

All of it had seemed right. Doing these things for the greater good.

Piece by piece, you'll learn—I'll be takin' you on the Tour tomorrow.

Thomas still loved eavesdropping

Forget all the weird stuff. Forget all the bad things. Forget it all.

He wasn't sure when he'd reached this turning point. But something had cracked within him.

needed a friend,

The Maze is a code.

network of tree houses and huts and underground burrows that made up the thriving metropolis in which they lived—all logs and twine and dried mud, everything leaning to the left or the right—did

Darkness pressed in, sucking light and life right out of him.

The Griever came to life, spikes popping out of

That'll be hilarious if he does all this, wakes up in some dude's body, then gets hit by a bus the next day. I'd even go to his funeral.

Thomas didn't have to think. He reached out and took the cup, poured the liquid in his mouth, swallowed all of it at once. It burned like fire, searing his throat and chest as it went down; he broke into a lurching, wracking cough.

Mark wants to scream, to tell her not to do it. But it's too late. The woman pulls the trigger. The boat drives on.

Dust coated the long-dark light fixtures on the ceiling, at least half of them busted, jagged glass screwed into rusty holes.

Mark had always felt like she was his as a simple matter of the situation. Pretty much everyone else she'd ever known had died; he was a scrap left over for her to take, the alternative to being forever alone. But he gladly played his part, even considered himself lucky—he didn't know what he'd do without her.