Matched (Matched #1)

by Ally Condie

It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.

there’s a difference between knowledge and technology. Knowledge doesn’t fail us.

Every minute you spend with someone gives them a part of your life and takes part of theirs.

Green tablet. Green space. Green eyes. Green girl.

what is the point of having something lovely if you never share it?

Only when I hold onto nothing can I be the best, only then can I be what they expect me to be.

The cool of the night accomplished what the rain yesterday did not; the air feels fresh. New. The sun blinking through the last of the clouds dares the birds to sing, and they do. It dares me to let the light in, and I do. Who wouldn’t rage against the death of something so beautiful?

Is falling in love with someone’s story the same thing as falling in love with the person himself?

“I don’t care about the artifact,” he says, and although he still does not touch me, I am warmed at the fire in his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep all night, worrying that I’d gotten you in trouble. I care about you.”

Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled.

If their love was born because of the Society, can it still be real and good and right?

Ky can play this game. He can play all of their games, including the one in front of him that he just lost. He knows exactly how to play, and that’s why he loses every time.

I’m falling in love. I am in love. And it’s not with Xander, although I do love him. I’m sure of that, as sure as I am of the fact that what I feel for Ky is something different.

“But if you were Matched,” I say softly, “what do you think she’d be like?” “You,” he says, almost before I’ve finished. “You.”

they are giving us pieces of a real life instead of the whole thing. And I’ll tell her that I don’t want my life to be samples and scraps. A taste of everything but a meal of nothing.

“You don’t have to write it back,” I say, feeling self-conscious. “I just wanted you to know.” “I don’t want to write it back,” he tells me. And then he says it, right out there on the Hill, and of all the words I have hidden and saved and treasured, these are the ones I will never forget, the most important ones of all. “I love you.”