My mother just wanted me to forget it. So, of course, every word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim`s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the Reaping.

Finally, the intercom crackles and Hatmitch's acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, 'And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.

But in my head I can hear Haymitch's smug, if slightly exasperated, words: "Yes, that's what I'm looking for, sweetheart.

Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.

I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.

there's plenty of blame to go around.