I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight.

So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.

I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good.

Doors are for those who lack enemies.

Orange? Like Effie's hair?" I say. "A bit more muted," he says. "More like sunset.

You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive.

You're punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control.