This is what birds see. Only they're free and safe. The very opposite of me.

What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.

What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?

I raise my left arm and twist my neck down to rip off the pill on my sleeve. Instead my teeth sink into flesh. I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta’s eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. “Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.

Don't want that, do they?” She throws back her head and shouts, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn't want anything like that!

I always channel my emotions into my work. That way, I don't hurt anyone but myself.

I'm more than just a piece in their Games.