Maze Runner Minho Quotes

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.

It's kind of hard to ask a dead guy what he did wrong.

Minho looked at Thomas, a serious expression on his face. "If I don't see you on the other side," he said in a sappy voice, "remember that I love you.

Awww," Minho said. "That's almost as sweet as that time she slammed the end of a spear into your shuck face.

Dude, you tried to slice my you-know-what's off!" Thomas laughed, something that he hadn't done in a long time. He welcomed it happily. "Too bad I didn't. Could've saved the world from future little Minhos.

Thats called hypocrisy, you shuck face piece of -!

Anybody else wanna pee their pants and cry for mommy?

Yeah, right," Minho said. "And Frypan's gonna start having little babies, Winston'll get rid of his monster acne, and Thomas here'll actually smile for once." Thomas turned to Minho and exaggerated a fake smile. "There, you happy?" "Dude," he responded. "You are one ugly shank.

Minho snickered and leaned back in his chair. “Man, you are one butt-load of sunshine, let me tell you.

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.

Too bad we don't have a flashlight." "Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas," Minho replied.

So let's say our bloody goodbyes, and then you can promise to remember me from my good old days. "I can't do that," Minho said.

I was just kidding, shuck-face," Minho said. "Let's all go over there. She could have an army of psycho girl ninjas hiding in that shack of hers." "Psycho girl ninjas?" Newt repeated, his voice showing he was surprised, if not annoyed, by Minho's additude.

He whipped out his sheet, then pulled it over himself and wrapped it tightly around his face like an old woman in a shawl. 'How do I look?' 'Like the ugliest shanky girl I’ve ever seen,' Minho responded. 'You better thank the gods above you were born a dude.' 'Thanks.

Shuck it,” Minho responded. “I’m tougher than nails. I could still kick your pony-lovin’ butt with twice this pain.” Thomas shrugged. “I do love ponies. Wish I could eat one right now.

...You'd think the little part about them supposedly killing us would be the attention getter.

Next time I'll pat you on the freaking back for stating the obvious.

Tomorrow," Minho added. "Somehow, some way.

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

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

Minho looked at Thomas. “I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.

We'll start firing till they drop or we drop.

I think we should take a break, fill our little tummies and drink up.

I ought to come up there and break your shuck nose.

[Minho] pulled one of his knives from a pocket and, without missing a beat, cut a big piece of ivy off the wall. He threw it on the ground behind him and kept running. “Bread crumbs?” Thomas asked, the old fairy tale popping into his mind. Such odd glimpses of his past had almost stopped surprising him. “Bread crumbs,” Minho replied. “I’m Hansel, you’re Gretel.

This is spooky," Minho spoke quietly, "Alby hold my hand." "Dude chill.

You don't take away my freedom without asking first.

Bread crumbs," Minho replied. "I'm Hansel, you're Gretel.

Minho looked at Thomas, a serious expression on his face, "if I don't see you on the other side," he said in a sappy voice, "remember that I love you." Snickering at Thomas's eye roll, he went through the doors and they closed.

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.

We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull,' Minho responded.

Newt was sitting on the ground with Frypan and Minho, all three looking as if they were waiting for the end of the world.

I'm gonnna break your faces!

If we're gonna die, let's do it freakin' fighting!

Bluh-huh-huh" Minho groaned, a shudder of repulsion, like he'd just stepped in a pile of klunk.

The number one Runner rule: "Never. Stop. Running

The Creators,” Minho said; then he spat on the floor. “I’m gonna break your faces!

I am a Crank, Minho! I am a Crank! Why can’t you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?

Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I . . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed.' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.

Minho flexed his right arm. “If these people are really the girls Aris was hanging out with, I’ll show ’em these guns of mine and they’ll go runnin’.

Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything. “There’s something about us. We’re not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We’re valuable. Alive, not dead.” The anger on Jorge’s face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What’s a shank?

Movement from Brenda grabbed Thomas's attention. He looked to see her drop the knife away from Minho and step back, absently wiping the small trace of blood there on her pants. "I really would've killed you, ya know," she said in a slightly scratchy voice. Almost husky. "Charge Jorge again and I'll sever an artery." Minho wiped at his small wound with his thumb, then looked at the bright red smear. "That's one sharp knife. Makes me like you more.

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.

You da boss

You never have known when to shut your hole, have ya, Minho? Always gotta have the bloody last word.

He didn’t know which was worse: that Newt seemed to be slipping already or that Minho—the one who should have been able to control himself—was acting like such a slinthead.

wouldn’t allow himself to give in to Minho’s hopelessness—he didn’t want to give up

Minho had taught Thomas that speaking only wasted energy, so he concentrated on his pace and his breaths.

Minho clucked his tongue. “Who cares about that? What’s this freakin’ stuff about her being the Betrayer?” “And what’s ‘Group A, Subject A1’ mean?” This was Newt, who handed over the fire extinguisher to Thomas. “Anyway, your turn to break a buggin’ door handle.

You can’t be serious.” Thomas could only nod. Minho’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the floor. “How did the world get so shucked?” The words barely came out, low and full of pain. “I’m sorry,” Newt said, and there were tears streaming down his face. “I’m … I’m going to shoot if you don’t go. Now.

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.

All of them, you slinthead shuck-faced piece of klunk." Minho smiled.

I was the last one to come through. Did everyone make it?” “We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull,” Minho responded.

What size you wear?” “Size?” Thomas thought for a second. “I … don’t know.” “Eleven.” “Geez, shank, you got big feet.” Minho stood up holding a pair of sleek silver ones. “But looks like I’ve got some – man, we could go canoeing in these things.

Why isn’t anybody here?” Minho asked. He turned in a circle, searching the place. “If they’re holding people in there, why no guards?

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.

I've been shiucked and gone to heaven.

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

Stay together. Don't die." "Well, we're all bloody inspired.

No, Newt, I don’t understand,” Minho said, the frustration in his voice escalating. “We risked our necks to come to this place and you’re our friend and we’re taking you home. You wanna whine and cry while you go crazy, that’s fine. But you’re gonna do it with us, not with these shuck Cranks.

He nudged Thomas, who looked up. Minho was holding out a couple of pairs of tightly cut underwear, made from a shiny white material. “These bad boys’re what we call Runnie-undies. Keeps you, um, nice and comfy.” “Nice and comfy?” “Yeah, ya know. Your—” “Yeah, got it.” Thomas took the underwear and other stuff.

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.

–Estoy totalmente seguro de que acabamos de arribar al maldito infierno. Siempre pensé que tú terminarías aquí, Minho, pero yo no.

Except Minho—he was trying to talk to some cute girl, but her eyes were closed.

Shuck it,” Minho responded. “I’m tougher than nails. I could still kick your pony-lovin’ butt with twice this pain.

Like the ugliest shanky girl I’ve ever seen,” Minho responded. “You better thank the gods above you were born a dude.” “Thanks.

Real piece of work, this guy. I've gotta get one of those shuck suits. Fancy stuff.

You met or new friend?" Minho responded, a smirk flashing across his face. "Real piece of work, this guy. I've gotta get one of those shuck suits. Fancy stuff.

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

Though she was obviously joking, she didn’t even crack a smile. Thomas had to hide a wince. “Funny, Brenda.” “Glad to see you still have a sense of humor about it,” Teresa said. But her face could’ve turned water to ice. Thomas looked down at his watch. Fifty-five minutes left. “I, um, need to talk to Newt.” He turned and quickly walked away before either girl could say anything. He wanted to be as far away from both of them as possible. Newt was sitting on the ground with Frypan and Minho, all three looking as if they were waiting for the end of the world.

Dude, you tried to slice my you-know-whats off!” Thomas laughed, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He welcomed it happily. “Too bad I didn’t. Could’ve saved the world from future little Minhos.

though somehow Thomas could still sense her presence. He felt her. It was almost like how, even though he couldn’t see Minho, he knew his friend lay only a few feet above him. And it wasn’t just the snoring.

Maybe when their minds go, they’re not themselves anymore. Maybe the Newt we know is gone and he’s not aware of what’s happening to him. So really, he’s not suffering.” Minho almost looked offended by the notion. “Nice try, slinthead, but I don’t believe it. I think he’ll always be there just enough to be screaming on the inside, deranged and suffering every shuck second of it. Tormented like a dude buried alive.

—Eso es, colega. No podemos rendirnos —Minho volvió a colocar con cuidado los papeles en el baúl, lo cerró y luego se incorporó—. Bueno, tendremos que darnos prisa porque aquí hemos estado mucho rato. Los primeros días sólo tendrás que seguirme. ¿Listo? Thomas sintió una corriente de nerviosismo en su interior, pellizcándole la barriga. Ya había llegado el momento, iban a salir de verdad; se había acabado hablar y pensar sobre el tema. —Ummm…, sí. —Aquí no hay «ums» que valgan. ¿Estás listo o no? Thomas miró a los ojos de Minho, que de repente reflejaban dureza. —Estoy listo. —Entonces, vamos a correr.

That’s the lamest shuck-faced thing you’ve ever barked,” Minho said. “You’re the leader, and you know it. We all know it.” Newt

Greenie," Minho said, "If you think that was brave comin' out here, listen up. You're the shuckiest shuck-faced shuck there ever was

Be careful he said dryly and don't die - Minho

Pretty sure we just arrived in bloody hell. Always thought you’d end up here, Minho, but not me.

Good that,” Newt said. “Tell us, then.” Minho looked at Thomas. “I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.

I don’t!” Minho shouted. “And believe me, you or nobody

Pretty sure we just arrived in bloody hell. Always thought you'd end up here, Minho, but not me.

maybe its all gonna be over" "Yeah, right." Minho said. "And Frypan's gonna start having little babies, Winston'll get rid of his monster acne, and Thomas here'll actually smile for once

I think he’s right. I think it’s time we did what we’re supposed to do. We all agreed to it just last night.” Minho broke into a nervous smile. Newt’s hands balled into fists. It was now or never.

How do we always get into these messes?" Minho asked. "At least we used to be able to blame everything on WICKED." "Yeah, well, we still can." Thomas murmured. Minho grinned. "Good. Those shuck-faces.

Gally,” Minho said in a calmer voice, “you’re nothing but a sissy who has never, not once, asked to be a Runner or tried out for it. You don’t have the right to talk about things you don’t understand. So shut your mouth.

Stop it!“ Newt yelled. Stop it now!“ Thomas has been frozen in place, crouching as he waited for an opportunity to jump in and help Minho. But he twisted around to see that Newt was holding his Launcher in shooting position, his eyes wild with fury. “Stop or I’ll start shooting and not give a buggin’ piece of klunk who gets hit.” ….. Thomas couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. He looked at Newt with wide eyes, glad he’d done what he had, and happy he hadn’t aimed the Launcher at him or Minho. “I told him to stop,” Newt half whispered. Then he aimed the weapon at Minho, but it was shaking because his arms were. “Now you guys leave. No more discussion. I’m sorry.“ Minho held up his hands. “You’re going to shoot me? Old pal?” “Go,” Newt said. „I asked nicely. Now I’m telling. This is hard enough. Go.“ „Newt, let’s go outside..“ „Go!“ Newt stepped closer and aimed more fiercely. „Get out of here!“ Thomas hated what he was seeing – the complete wilderness that had taken over Newt. His whole body trembled and his eyes had lost any hint of sanity. He was losing it, completely. “Let’s go,” Thomas said, one of the saddest things he’d ever heard himself say. „Come on.” Minho’s gaze snapped to Thomas, and he looked like his heart had been shattered. “You can’t be serious.” Thomas could only nod. Minho’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the floor. “How did the world get so shucked?” The words barely came out, low and full of pain. “I’m sorry,” Newt said, and there were tears streaming down his face. “I’m .. I’m going to shoot if you don’t go. Now.

You okay, there, Mr. Rat Man?” Minho asked. “My name is Assistant Director Janson,” he replied, his voice low and strained, as if it was hard work to stay calm. His eyes never left Thomas. “Learn to show respect for your elders.

What happened to the dead bodies?” Question after question, a chorus of them, all melding into one roar of confusion. As for Thomas, he didn’t bother. The stranger wasn’t going to tell them anything. Couldn’t they all see that? Rat Man waited patiently, ignoring them, those dark eyes darting back and forth between the Gladers as they spoke. His gaze settled on Thomas, who sat there, silent, staring back at him, hating him. Hating WICKED. Hating the world. “You shanks shut up!” Minho finally shouted. The questions stopped instantly. “This shuck-face ain’t answering,

Minho had gotten to his feet, and he came over to help Thomas stand. “My shuck brain can’t spend one more second thinking. Just let her do whatever she wants. Come one.” “Good that,” Thomas said. The two of them then looked at each other for a long moment, catching their breath, somehow reliving in those few seconds all the things they’d gone through, all the death, all the pain. And mixed in there was relief, that maybe – just maybe – it was all over. But mostly Thomas felt the pain of loss. Watching Teresa die – to save his life – had been almost too much to bear. Now, staring at the person who’d become his true best friend, he had to fight back the tears. In that moment, he swore to never tell Minho about what he’d done to Newt. “Good that for sure, shuck-face,” Minho finally replied. But his trademark smirk was missing. Instead was a look that said to Thomas he understood. And that they’d both carry the sorrow of their loss for the rest of their lives.

What if this is some kind of trap?" "Yeah," Minho said, "Maybe we should think about this." "No." Thomas shook his head. "We can't try to outguess them any more. 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.

Minho laughed, then raised the palm of his hand and shoved Gally in the face. Thomas half stood as he watched the Glader crash down into his chair, tipping it over backward, cracking it in two pieces. Gally sprawled across the floor, then scrambled to stand up, struggling to get his hands and feet under him. Minho stepped closer and stomped the bottom of his foot down on Gally’s back, driving his body flat to the ground.

No way, man!” Thomas could swear his friend almost looked hurt. “We shouldn’t split up. All four of us should go – it’ll be safer.” “Minho, we need someone back here to watch over things,” Thomas said, and he meant it. This was a whole roomful of people who might be able to help them take WICKED down. “Plus, I hate to say it, but what if something does happen to us? Stay behind and make sure our plans don’t die. They’ve got Frypan, Minho. Who knows who else. You said once that I should be the Keeper of the Runners.

Look at them down there,” Thomas said. “Who knows what they were doing a few months ago. Living in a high-rise, maybe, working at some office. Now they’re chasing people like wild animals.” “I’ll tell you what they were doing a few months ago,” Brenda answered. “They were miserable, scared to death of catching the Flare, knowing it’s inevitable.” Minho threw his hands up. “How can you worry about them ? Was I alone just now? With my friend ? His name is Newt.” “Nothing we could’ve done,” Jorge called from the cockpit. Thomas winced at the lack of compassion. Minho turned to face him. “Just shut up and fly, shuck-face.” “I’ll do my best,” Jorge said with a sigh. He fiddled with some instruments and got the Berg moving. Minho slumped to the floor, almost like he’d melted. “What happens when he runs out of Launcher grenades?” he asked no one in particular, looking at an empty spot on the wall. Thomas had no idea how to respond, no way to express the sorrow that filled his chest. He sank down next to Minho on the ground and sat there without saying a word as the Berg rose higher and flew away from the Crank Palace. Newt was gone.

Open on three,” Minho said. “And guard lady, you try anything or run away, I guarantee one of us will get you. Thomas, you count off.” The woman pulled out her key card but said nothing. “One,” Thomas began. “Two.” He paused, allowed himself a moment to suck in a breath, but before he could yell the last number an alarm started blaring and the lights went out. CHAPTER 14 Thomas blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness. The alarm rang in shrill, deafening bursts. He sensed Minho stand up, then heard him shuffling about. “The guard’s gone!” his friend shouted. “I can’t find her!

Stop it!“ Newt yelled. Stop it now!“ Thomas has been frozen in place, crouching as he waited for an opportunity to jump in and help Minho. But he twisted around to see that Newt was holding his Launcher in shooting position, his eyes wild with fury. “Stop or I’ll start shooting and not give a buggin’ piece of klunk who gets hit.” ….. Thomas couldn’t believe the sudden turn of events. He looked at Newt with wide eyes, glad he’d done what he had, and happy he hadn’t aimed the Launcher at him or Minho. “I told him to stop,” Newt half whispered. Then he aimed the weapon at Minho, but it was shaking because his arms were. “Now you guys leave. No more discussion. I’m sorry.“ Minho held up his hands. “You’re going to shoot me? Old pal?

We’re either gonna be fighting Grievers or we need to get inside those big coffins at the right time. Maybe they’re the—” A sharp hiss cut through the air from all directions. The sound pierced Thomas’s eardrums and he clamped his hands to the sides of his head again. Movement on the perimeter surrounding them caught his attention, and he watched carefully what was happening with the large white pods. A line of dark blue light had appeared on one side of each container, then expanded as the top half of the object began to move upward, opening on hinges like the lid of a coffin. It made no sound, at least not enough to be heard over the rushing wind and rumbling thunder. Thomas sensed the Gladers and the others slowly moving closer together, forming a tighter knot. Everyone was trying to get as far away from the pods as possible—and soon they were a coiled pack of bodies encircled by the thirty or so rounded white containers. The lids continued moving until they’d all swung open and dropped to the ground. Something bulky rested inside each vessel. Thomas couldn’t make out much, but from where he stood he couldn’t see anything like the odd appendages of the Grievers. Nothing moved, but he knew not to let his guard down. Teresa? he said to her mind. He didn’t dare try talking loudly enough to be heard—but he had to talk to someone or go nuts. Yeah? Someone should go take a look. See what’s in it. He said it, but he really didn’t want to be the one to do it. Let’s go together, she said easily. She surprised him with her courage. Sometimes you have the worst ideas, he responded. He’d tried to make it feel sarcastic, but he knew the truth of it far more than he wanted to admit to himself. He was terrified. “Thomas!” Minho called. The wind, still wild, was drowned out by the approaching thunder and lightning now, cracking