Chosen Ones (The Chosen Ones, #1)

by Veronica Roth

It was a strange thing, to know with certainty that you had peaked.

“I’m tired of being celebrated for the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Matt was looking at her in a way she didn’t like. Like she was a car that had broken down on the side of the road and he was looking under the hood to see what the problem was. Like there was something wrong inside her that he could make right. And maybe that was the entire problem with them—he didn’t see her; he saw who she could be with a few adjustments, and all she wanted was to stay busted and be left alone.

In other words, for something to be magic, it must be an impossible want.

In other words, magic is a mirror. It reflects us back to ourselves, and we may not always like what we see.