Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.

As we ride the elevator Gale finally says “You're still angry.” “And you're still not sorry,” I reply. "I will stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?” he asks. “No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion,” I tell him.

And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.

The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it.

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

You would think after all the hours I’d spent with Gale– watching him talk and laugh and frown– that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands [...] could entrap me… I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest.

In other words, I step out of line and we're all dead.