"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked, pulling Thomas's attention away from Alby."Go ahead," Newt replied.Minho nodded and faced the crowd. "Be careful," he said dryly. "Don't die."
"I didn't do anyting wrong. All I know is I saw two people struggling to get inside these walls and they [Minho and Alby] couldn't make it. To ignore that because of some stupid rule seemed selfish, cowardly, and... well, stupid. If you want to throw me in jail for trying to save someone's [Alby] life, then go ahead. Next time I promise I'll point at them and laugh, then go eat some of Frypan's dinner. -Thomas"
"... sometimes knowing sucked."
"Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?' Minho asked..."Go ahead," Newt replied.Minho nodded and faced the crowd. 'Be careful,' he said dryly. 'Don't die.'Thomas would have laughed if he could, but he was too scared for it to come out.'Great. We're all bloody inspired,' Newt answered."
"He finally pulled it all back into his heart, sucking in the painful tide of his misery."
"I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" . . . Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezed him as tightly as possible, as if that could somehow bring him back, or show thanks for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would.Thomas cried, wept like he'd never wept before. His great, racking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. (pg 358 hardback)"
"Find our way out, Greenie. Solve the buggin' Maze and find our way out."
"A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy’s body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth."
"Thats called hypocrisy, you shuck face piece of -!"
"Newt shook his head, his face a mixture of anger and awe. “What you did was half brave and half bloody stupid. Seems like you’re pretty good at that."
"I remember remembering,” she muttered, sitting down with a heavy sigh; she pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around her knees. “Feelings. Emotions. Like I have all these shelves in my head, labeled for memories and faces, but they’re empty. As if everything before this is just on the other side of a white curtain. Including you."
"Oh, man," he mumbled with a full mouth. "At least the food is good."
"Wonder why we can do this,' he called out with his mind. The mental effort of speaking to her was already straining—he felt a headache forming like a bulge in his brain. 'Maybe we were lovers,' Teresa said. Thomas tripped and crashed to the ground. Smiling sheepishly at Minho, who’d turned to look without slowing, Thomas got back up and caught up to him. 'What?' he finally asked. He sensed a laugh from her, a watery image full of color."
"Thomas was sick of being accused of knowing things."
"Minho snickered and leaned back in his chair. “Man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you."
"... Don't feel bad about crying. Ever."
"He forced himself forward trying to seem innocent without acting like someone who was guilty who was trying to act innocent."