Best 27 quotes in «maze runner quotes» category

Frypan has no reason to process or think too deeply about the returning memories. They're not like new revelations, things to which he should respond somehow. They've always been there, inside him. He has already reactedto them. He has been shaped by them. He's not learning. He's not experiencing. He's remembering.

Her short blond hair shifted in the wind, and she appeared the very definition of peace and comfort. Like she belonged in the world that had existed before everything was scorched.

He finally pulled it all back into his heart, sucking in the painful tide of his misery. In the Glade, Chuck had become a symbol for him—a beacon that somehow they could make everything right again in the world. Sleep in beds. Get kissed goodnight. Have bacon and eggs for breakfast, go to a real school. Be happy. But now Chuck was gone. And his limp body, to which Thomas still clung, seemed a cold talisman—that not only would those dreams of a hopeful future never come to pass, but that life had never been that way in the first place. That even in escape, dreary days lay ahead. A life of sorrow. His returning memories were sketchy at best. But not much good floated in the muck. Thomas reeled in the pain, locked it somewhere deep inside him. He did it for Teresa. For Newt and Minho. Whatever darkness awaited them, they’d be together, and that was all that mattered right then.

Great, we're all bloody inspired. -Newt

I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all … your … fault!

I can still kick your pony-lovin' butt with twice this much pain." Thomas shrugged, "I do love ponies. Wish I could eat one right now.

I'm so scared of going crazy. I can already feel it happening. Things look weird, sound weird. Out of the blue I'll start thinking about stuff that doesn't make any sense. Sometimes the air around me feels... hard. I don't even know what that means, but it's scary. I'm definitely starting. The Flare's taking my brain to hell.

I'm coming for you Newt

Reason we're here is because almost every lovin' kid in the Glade has come up to me in the last day or two either boohooing about Thomas or beggin' to take his bloody hand in marriage...

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.

Shouldn't someone give a pep talk," 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." 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 then pointed over his shoulder toward the Maze, "You all know the plan.

They called you the Glue" "The Glue?" "Yeah. Probably because you're kind of the glue that holds us all together

Taste good?” Brenda asked as she dug into her own food. “Please. I’d push my own mom down the stairs to eat this stuff,” Thomas said. “I’d kill your mother for something fresh out of a garden. A nice salad.” “Guess my mom doesn’t have much of a chance if she’s ever standing between us and a grocery store.” “Guess not.

They're making me call myself Charles." Thomas shook his head. "Well, that's lame. We're going to call you Chuck.

Thomas had lived in fear and terror the past few weeks, but this was almost too much. To feel safe only to have that snatched away again.

Thomas had no concept of time as he went through the Changing. It started much like his first memory of the Box—dark and cold. But this time he had no sensation of anything touching his feet or body. He floated in emptiness, stared into a void of black. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing. It was as if someone had stolen his five senses, leaving him in a vacuum. Time stretched on. And on. Fear turned into curiosity, which turned into boredom. Finally, after an interminable wait, things began to change. A distant wind picked up, unfelt but heard. Then a swirling mist of whiteness appeared far in the distance—a spinning tornado of smoke that formed into a long funnel, stretching out until he could see neither the top nor the bottom of the white whirlwind. He felt the gales then, sucking into the cyclone so that it blew past him from behind, ripping at his clothes and hair like they were shredded flags caught in a storm. The tower of thick mist began to move toward him—or he was moving toward it, he couldn’t tell—increasing its speed at an alarming rate. Where seconds before he’d been able to see the distinct form of the funnel, he now could see only a flat expanse of white. And then it consumed him; he felt his mind taken by the mist, felt memories flood into his thoughts. Everything else turned into pain.

Thomas rolled over, glad it was dark so no one could see the look that had settled across his face. It wasn’t a smile, exactly. Not quite a happy expression. But almost. And for now, almost was good enough.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I never said jack about me being braver than anybody. I’m just sick of hearing people’s voices. Yours included.” Minho snickered. “Slinthead, when you try to be mean, it’s just freaking hilarious.

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

What kind of world has this become?" "A really sick one

What was that shuck thing?" -Minho "Magic goop that eat's people's heads, that's what it bloody was." -Newt

What's up, Tommy?" Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that'd been sprung on them. Thomas couldn't remember exactly how long it'd been since the last time he'd seen Newt. "You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning.

It’s like watching a starving pig eat his own klunk.

You have a knack for trying to get yourself killed!

But there was something about the largest object in the solar system vanishing that tended to disrupt normal schedules.

It was you and me, Tom. We did this to them. To us.

Quit voting me down before you even think about what I'm saying.