We can't play God.We can't do this to kids.You're evil, I'm evil.Everyone will die.No matter what.Let nature win.

I only have two fingers left.I wrote the lies of my farewell with two fingers.That is the truth.We are evil.They are kids.We are evil.

Great, we're all bloody inspired. -Newt

I don't know who you people are, but I hope you're happy. I hope you get a real buggin' kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.

I plan to write three words on my arm before entering the Box, hoping that its simple message will plant seed in the Gladers who see it. To remind them, even subconsciously, what it is we fight for. It's a phrase I saw on a cold, dark night long ago, the Crank pits seething behind me. It's a phrase that I believe with all my heart, despite the horrors. I think you know what it is.