If you were closer, I'd slap you," she said. "Let me help," I replied, and stepped closer. She promptly slapped me, which surprised me only a little. We glared at each other in the near dark, and then she looked away. "I'm sorry I slapped you," she said. "That's all right. I quite enjoyed it.

It was as though, in one moment, he had become a stranger. And I a stranger to myself.

His speech failed to rouse an enthusiastic cheer, but no one dared contradict him.

I'm cursed with this puritanical streak that makes me want everything to be about something. It's a terrible affliction.

You're like something drawn with the sun's fire, and I can take only little glimpses of you.

You've no fear of heights," puffed the girl. "None," I said. "I've heard that about you.

It's somewhat disquieting that the same parents and educators who are horrified by the notion of child soldiers have bestowed upon 'The Hunger Games' a double mantle of critical praise and global bestsellerdom.