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

Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences.

Sometimes when things are particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream. [...] When I fully awaken, I'm momentarily comforted. I try to hold on to the peaceful feeling of the dream, but it quickly slips away, leaving me sadder than ever.

Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.

I don’t stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You’ll never be able to let him go. You’ll always feel wrong about being with me.” “The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you,” I say. Gale holds my gaze. “If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it.

If I feel ragged, my prep team seems in worse condition, knocking back coffee and sharing brightly colored little pills. As far as I can tell, they never get up before noon unless there's some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair.

And she’s very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her