Birds are settling down for the night, singing lullabies to their young.

At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead.The hard thing is finding the courage to do it.

Eyes on the forest, not on the trees.

Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in mine. “Don’t try something like that again.” “Or what?” I ask. “Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me a minute.

Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality.

That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner.

Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.