In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.

Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," says Effie grimly. "But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary." Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a certain determination I have to admire.

Want a sugar cube? [...] They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I . . . well, if we see something sweet we better grab it quick. [...] You're absolutely terrifying me in that get-up. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?

Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other's survival means our own death. How do you side step that?

Haymich finally drops the good-natured act. "you know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first." Of course I do. Gale.

In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness.

The Eleventh Plague hits disturbingly close to home An excellent, taut debut novel.