You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

If my holding out those berries was an act of temporary insanity, then those people will embrace insanity too.

On and on we seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count.

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

We could do it, you know." "What?" "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.

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.

No one knows what to do with you, girlie.