If you are not trying to hold on to time, you are not so afraid of losing it.

It's impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers," I say. "And I sang her to sleep.

A light was on in the kitchen. His mother sat at the kitchen table, as still as a statue. Her hands were clasped together, and she stared fixatedly at a small stain on the tablecloth. Gregor remembered seeing her that way so many nights after his dad had disappeared. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to scare her or shock her or ever give her any more pain. So, he stepped into the light of the kitchen and said the one thing he knew she wanted to hear most in the world. "Hey, Mom. We're home.

Just give him the medicine!" I scream at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!

I had to do that. At least once.

Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, “Music.