Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words arenโt for me. โWith my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a babyโs skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.
Suzanne CollinsThe realization that Iโd have nothing to take home had finally sunk in. My knees buckled and I slid down the tree trunk to its roots. It was too much. I was too sick and weak and tired, oh, so tired. Let them call the Peacekeepers and take us to the community home, I thought. Or better yet, let me die right here in the rain.
Suzanne Collins