Restore Me (Shatter Me, #4)

by Tahereh Mafi

But the fire of true hatred, I realize, cannot exist without the oxygen of affection. I would not hurt so much, or hate so much, if I did not care.

“The world tried to crush you,” I say, gently now, “and you refused to be shattered.

“Those who do not understand you,” I say softly, “will always doubt you.”

“She’s, like, batshit pretty. The kind of pretty that makes a man think getting murdered in his sleep might not be a bad way to go.”

I love that the girl who blushes so easily in my arms is the same one who would kill a man for hurting me.