They more than do their work, they take pride in it. Like Cinna.

Oh, well. At least my blood is flowing.

Just the sound of his voice twists my stomach into a knot of unpleasant emotions like guilt, sadness and fear. And longing. I might as well admit there’s some of that too.

The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion.

One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.

The awful thing is that if i can forget they're people, it will be no different at all

You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.