Quotes from James Dashner

Be careful, don't die. (Minho from The Maze Runner trilogy)

He found himself thinking of Newt, maybe the one he liked most of all of them, not immune.

Thomas didn't have time to shout a warning before the massive piece of rock landed on a group of people, crushing them as it broke in half. He stood for a moment, speechless as blood oozed out from the edges and pooled on the stone floor.

She was there. She'd been in his arms. They'd been together again. They'd kissed and he'd felt something he would've thought impossible. And now he was running away. Leaving her behind.

they were the same smart-aleck, know-it-all, best-hackers-in-the-Sleep, teenage troublemakers they'd always been.

Religious or not, everyone celebrates Christmas in one way or another.

He reached down and tugged on her braid, hoping she knew just how much she made his miserable life worth living.

Do people still function—live their lives, go to work, whatever—when they're drugged out?" "They do what they need to do, but they're much more … relaxed about it. You could be a fireman rescuing thirty children from an inferno, but you won't stress if you happen to drop a few of them into the flames along the way.

with finding a cure for some disease?" "It has everything in the world to do with it." Rat Man sighed

But nothing sent chills up and down Thomas's spine like the haunted, deathly moans that somehow escaped the creature when it sat still, like the sound of dying men on a battlefield.

We're not here about revenge,

Kiss me," she said. "Tom, kiss me." Her hands tightened on his face. She started to pull him down toward her. "No," he said, resisting. She stopped, a hurt look washing over her face. Her moving, blurring face. "Why?" she asked. The darkness almost had him fully now. "You're not … her." His voice, distant. A mere echo. "You could never be her.

her words were lost. The Griever had sucked her face into its blubbery skin and was pulling her farther and farther in, suffocating her.

Logic told him that being filthy had nothing to do with the strength of your heart or the functioning of your lungs.

sick, Mark. I'm really, really sick. I need to die. I need to die and I don't wanna die for nothing.

Good. And I think if we use my Hide-and-Seek program and Michael's Cloak-and-Dagger, we should be able to avoid that snake for a while.

just like that, Thomas was alone

You know how the world is. New disease, new drugs. Even if it doesn't do jack to the illness itself, they still come up with stuff.

And then Thomas, still in shock over the sheer power of the lightning bursts, followed his friends, stepping into the gloom. He turned to look just in time to see the rain start falling outside, as if the storm had finally decided to weep with shame for what it had done to them.

smelled like electronics.

and Bobette Duck. Unbelievable. Might as well be called Stinky and Butt-Ugly.

That girl loved to read like no one else, and she was making up for the months they spent literally running for their lives, when books were few and far between. The digital kind were all long gone, as far as Mark could guess—wiped away when the computers and servers all fried. Trina read the old-school paper kind.

I'm stuck!" Dad yelled. "My big fat tubby body is stuck!

She turned and walked away, and Thomas sat there, hoping his face hadn't flushed bright red when he remembered her being close to him in the Underneath.