it is a perfect weapon

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise.

He hasn't accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread, is fighting hard to kill me.

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next...

I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.

For the last year his grandma had been slipping in and out of reality. One minute she was as clear as a bell and the next she was calling him Simon. Who was Simon? He had no idea.