You can swim, too." he says. "Where did you learn that in District Twelve?" "We have a very big bathtub.

I wish she was dead,' he says. 'I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.

One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?

If I'm going to die, I want to still be me

Right before the explosions begin, I find a star.

This was the door to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.