Best 33 quotes in «the maze runner quotes» category

A few minutes passed, and Thomas felt the long day finally catch up to him, the leaded edge of sleep crossing over his mind. But—like a fist had shoved it in his brain and let go—a thought popped into his head. One that he didn’t expect, and he wasn’t sure from where it came.

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.

A small hole in his shirt revealed a gooey red blob right in the meaty part above his armpit, blood pouring from the wound. It hurt. It hurt bad. If he’d thought his headache downstairs had been tough, this was like three or four of those, all smashed into a coil of pain right there in his shoulder. And spreading through the rest of his body. Newt was at his side, looking down with worried eyes. “He shot me.” It just came out, a new number one on the list of the dumbest things he’d ever said. The pain, like living metal staples running through his insides, pricking and scratching with their little sharp points. He felt his mind going dark for the second time that day.

Be careful, don’t die. (Minho from The Maze Runner trilogy)

Great, we’re all bloody inspired. (Newt in The Maze Runner)

Conmocionado, Thomas comprobó que sus ojos se habían llenado de lágrimas. La vida había sido tan delirante desde su llegada al Área que nunca se le había ocurrido pensar en los Habitantes como si fueran chicos reales, con familias de verdad que los extrañaran. Era muy raro, pero ni siquiera había pensado en sí mismo de esa manera. Sólo reflexionaba acerca del significado de todo, sobre quiénes los había mandado allí o cómo saldrían alguna vez de ese lugar. Por primera vez, sintió algo por Chuck que lo enojó de tal modo que tenía deseos de matar a alguien. El chico debería estar en la escuela, en su hogar, jugando con los amigos. Tenía derecho a tener una casa y una familia que lo amara, que se preocupara por él. Una mamá que se encargara de que se diera una ducha todos los días y un papá que lo ayudara con la tarea. Detestó a las personas que habían arrancado a ese pobre chico inocente de su familia. Los odió con una pasión que no sabía que un ser humano pudiera sentir. Quería que los mataran, incluso que los torturaran. Deseaba que Chuck fuera feliz. Pero la felicidad había sido extirpada de sus vidas. Y también el amor.

-¿Desterrado? ¿Y eso qué significa? -no pudo evitar la pregunta, aunque sabía que no podía ser nada bueno si Chuck pensaba que era peor que estar muerto. En ese instante, tuvo la sensación más perturbadora desde su llegada al Área. Chuck no contestó, simplemente sonrió. A pesar de todo, a pesar de lo horrible que era esa situación, se rió. Luego salió corriendo, tal vez para contarle a otro las emocionantes noticias.

En su mente y en su corazón se había desencadenado una batalla de emociones. Confusión. Curiosidad. Pánico. Miedo. Pero mezclada con todo eso, había una oscura sensación de absoluta desesperanza, como si el mundo se hubiera acabado, borrado de su cabeza, y hubiese sido reemplazado por algo terrible. Quería correr y esconderse de esa gente.

-Escúchame, Chuck -contestó, haciendo una pausa para calmarse y que no se le quebrara la voz-.No me cabe la menor duda de que tienes padres. Lo sé. Suena horrible, pero estoy seguro de que tu mamá está sentada ahora en tu cuarto, sosteniendo tu almohada, observando por la ventana ese mundo que te arrebató de ella. Y te apuesto a que está llorando. Con fuerza. Los ojos hinchados, los mocos en la nariz: un llanto como debe ser. No dijo nada, pero Thomas escuchó unos ligerísimos gemidos. -No debes rendirte, Chuck. Vamos a solucionar todo y a salir de aquí. Ya soy un Corredor, y prometo por mi vida que te voy a llevar de vuelta a tu habitación. Y tu mamá dejará de llorar. Lo decía en serio. Esa promesa le quemaba el corazón. -Espero que tengas razón -dijo Chuck con voz temblorosa. Hizo el gesto del pulgar hacia arriba en la ventana y se alejó. Thomas se levantó y caminó por el pequeño recinto, ardiendo en deseos de poder cumplir su palabra. -Créeme, Chuck -susurró al aire-.Te juro que te llevaré de vuelta a tu casa.

-Estoy medio confundido, viejo. Es raro sentirse triste y extrañar la casa de uno, si no tienes idea de adónde deseas volver, ¿cazas lo que digo? Lo único que sé es que no quiero estar aquí. Quiero regresar con mi familia donde sea que quede eso, al lugar de donde me sacaron. Quiero recordar.

False hope," she said. "Guess that's better then no hope at all.

I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, knowing she couldn't hear. I'm so sorry." Her mouth moved, working to speak, and he leaned in to make out what she was trying to say. "Me ... too," she whispered. "I only ever ... cared for...

It’s your incalculable ability to trust others that has always touched me. And I’m sorry to have taken advantage of it so many times” - Dr. Paige

Brenda frowned, then focused on Thomas. “You’re—we’re—doing the right thing.” “I don’t think there is a right or wrong anymore,” Thomas said, hearing the numbness in his own voice. He desperately wanted sleep. “Only horrible and not-quite-so-horrible.

It’s kind of hard to ask a dead guy what he did wrong. (Minho from The Maze Runner)

I want to be a Runner.

Newt..." "Do it before I become one of them!" "I..." "KILL ME!" And then Newt's eyes cleared, as if he'd gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened. "Please, Tommy. Please." With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.

Nice to meet ya, shank," the boy said. "Welcome to the Glade.

Please, Tommy. Please. (Newt in The Death Cure, Page 250. The Maze Runner Trilogy).

-Si no estás asustado -dijo-, no eres humano. Si actúas de otra manera, te voy a arrojar por el Acantilado porque eso querría decir que eres un enfermo.

-Me acordé de cuando era chico, dónde vivía, ese tipo de cosas. Y si Dios en persona bajara del cielo en este mismo momento y me dijera que puedo volver a mi casa... -miró hacia el piso y sacudió la cabeza de nuevo-. Si lo que vi fue real, te juro que me voy a vivir con los Penitentes antes que regresar.

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. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared.

Memories had come back to Thomas on several occasions. The Changing, the dreams he’d had since, fleeting glimpses here and there, like quick lightning strikes in his mind. And right now, listening to the white-suited man talk, it felt as if he were standing on a cliff and all the answers were just about to float up from the depths for him to see in their entirety. The urge to grasp those answers was almost too strong to keep at bay. But he was still wary. He knew he’d been a part of it all, had helped design the Maze, had taken over after the original Creators died and kept the program going with new recruits. “I remember enough to be ashamed of myself,” he admitted. “But living through this kind of abuse is a lot different than planning it. It’s just not right.

Thomas remembered the image of the Cranks at the windows back at the dorm. Like living nightmares, missing only a death certificate to make them official zombies.

Thomas felt his spirits lift, but immediately squashed them back down. Getting his hopes up was something he’d sworn never to do again. Not until all this was over.

With time to think, the full reality of what had happened hit Thomas like a falling boulder. Ever since Thomas had entered the Maze, Newt had been there for him. Thomas hadn’t realized just how much of a friend he’d become until now. His heart hurt. He tried to remind himself that Newt wasn’t dead. But in some ways this was worse. In most ways. He’d fallen down the slope of insanity, and he was surrounded by bloodthirsty Cranks. And the prospect of never seeing him again was almost unbearable. [...] He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and ripped it open, then took out the slip of paper. The soft lights that ringed the mirror lit up the message in a warm glow. It was two short sentences: Kill me. If you’ve ever been my friend, kill me. Thomas read it over and over, wishing the words would change. To think that his friend had been so scared that he’d had the foresight to write those words made him sick to his stomach. And he remembered how angry Newt had been at Thomas specifically when they’d found him in the bowling alley. He’d just wanted to avoid the inevitable fate of becoming a Crank. And Thomas had failed him. [...] “Newt suddenly twisted around and grabbed Thomas by the hand holding the gun. He yanked it toward himself, forcing it up until the end of the pistol was pressed against his own forehead. “Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else. Now do it!” Thomas tried to pull his hand away, but Newt was too strong. “I can’t, Newt, I can’t.” “Make amends! Repent for what you did!” The words tore out of him, his whole body trembling. Then his voice dropped to an urgent, harsh whisper. “Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.” The words horrified Thomas. “Newt, maybe we can—” “Shut up! Just shut up! I trusted you! Now do it!” “I can’t.” “Do it!” “I can’t!” How could Newt ask him to do something like this? How could he possibly kill one of his best friends? “Kill me or I’ll kill you. Kill me! Do it!” “Newt …” “Do it before I become one of them!” “I …” “KILL ME!” And then Newt’s eyes cleared, as if he’d gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened. “Please, Tommy. Please.” With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.

Thomas thought about how he’d always felt a connection to her, ever since she arrived in the Glade. He wanted to dig a little more and see what she said: -What are you talking about? -Wish I knew. I’m just trying to bounce ideas off you to see if it sparks anything in your mind.

-Yo me acuerdo que recordaba -murmuró. Emitió un largo suspiro mientras se sentaba, encogía las piernas y ponía los brazos alrededor de ellas-. Sentimientos. Emociones. Como si tuviera en mi cabeza estantes con etiquetas para los recuerdos y las caras, pero vacíos. Como si todo lo anterior esto se encontrara del otro lado de una cortina blanca. También tú.

You da boss

You are the shuckiest shuck faced shuck in the world!” - Minho (The Maze Runner)

You're Subject A-two," Newt answered. Then he lowered his eyes "And?" Thomas pushed. Newt hesitated, then answered without looking at him. "It doesn't call you anything. It just says . . . 'To be killed by Group B.

You're welcome. I was just trying to help.' Thomas felt like kicking him in the face.

We can’t try to outguess them anymore. Sometimes they do things just to make me do the opposite of what they think I think they think I want to do.” “Huh?” the three of them asked at the same time, confusion transforming their faces.