Quotes About Hope

Thomas: Is it [my brain] fixed? Brenda: It worked, judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore...

False hope," she said. "Guess that's better then no hope at all.

Tomorrow," Minho added. "Somehow, some way.

Thomas turned to see Newt there, smiling. That grin sent a wave of reassurance through Thomas, as if he were finding out the world was okay again.

Can't take a chance that one day, in one spot, somewhere, an exit might appear. We can't give up. Ever.

Let's get this started, people. It won't be long before we all lose our minds.

The girl leaned forward and kissed Thomas on the cheek. "You're sweet. I really hope we don't end up killing you, at least.

Someday we'll be bigger.

Things are bad,they are,and they'll get much worse for ya soon,thats the truth.But down the road a piece,you'll be fightin' true and good.I can tell you're not a bloody sissy. -Newt

Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I . . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed.' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.

Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything. "There's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We're valuable. Alive, not dead." The anger on Jorge's face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What's a shank?

I don't know who you people are, but I hope you're happy. I hope you get a real buggin' kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.

And we want to make sure that something is done to salvage what's left of this beautiful race called humans.

For the first time in his life, Michael understood why real soldiers coming back from real wars often had a hard time getting over the things they'd seen and done. And had done to them. If Michael had a soul, it was starting to leak out of his hopes.

Where are we going?" Thomas asked, still feeling the weight of seeing those walls close, thinking about the maze, the confusion, the fear. He hold himself to stop or he'd drive himself crazy. Trying to grasp a sense of normalcy, he made a weak attempt at a joke. "If you're looking for a goodnight kiss, forget it.

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

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

wouldn't allow himself to give in to Minho's hopelessness—he didn't want to give up

I plan to write three words on my arm before entering the Box, hoping that its simple message will plant seed in the Gladers who see it. To remind them, even subconsciously, what it is we fight for. It's a phrase I saw on a cold, dark night long ago, the Crank pits seething behind me. It's a phrase that I believe with all my heart, despite the horrors. I think you know what it is.

Don't give up!

We were unable to discover either a vaccine or a treatment for the Flare.

It was a strange world. But Thomas was alive, and he lived.

He'd been at the Glade for roughly twenty-four hours. One full day. And look at all the things that had happened. All the terrible things. Surely it could only get better.

He might die." "Or worse. He might live." He hears one last thing, finally something that doesn't make him shiver in disgust or fright. "Or he and the others might save us. Save us all.