Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.

By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them.

The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

The glue of mutual need that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away. Dark patches, not light, show in the spaces between us.

I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?

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

Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there and gaze at me forever.