Suzanne Collins Quotes

I think you'd be pretty in any color."-Posy to Octavia

I don't want to lose the boy with the bread.

So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?” says Caesar encouragingly. “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case,” says Peeta. “Why ever not?” says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. “Because…because…she came here with me.

Katniss: 'What about you? Ive seen you in the market. You can lift hundred pound bags of flour'. I snap at him Tell him that. Thats not nothing. Peeta: Yes and Im sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people.

For a second, I'm afraid he's dying. I have to remind myself that I don't care.

No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But what then ... what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some.

hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," I say. "Katniss, I live three houses away from you," he says.

If the careers want me, let them find me.

Nerrissa? You believe her? Well, you at least have to credit her with a certain instability! Remember when she told you that I was going to take over the Fount with and army of Lobsters?" said Ripred. You did try to take over the Fount with an army of Lobsters." said Vikus. Yes, yes, but it was years before she was born. My point is, she flip-flops in and out of time like a fish in shallow waters." answered Ripred.

Plutarch rushes to reassure me. "Oh, no, Katniss. Not your wedding. Finnick and Annie's. All you need to do is show up and pretend to be happy for them." "That's one of the few things I won't have to pretend, Plutarch," I tell him.

So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong.

Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says. “Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.

You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive.

While you live, the revolution lives

Even though I don't ask, Plutarch gives me cheerful updates on the phone like "Good news, Katniss! I think we've almost got him convinced you're not a mutt!" Or "Today he was allowed to feed himself pudding!

The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light. Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..." His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!

But it's Posy, Gale's five-year-old sister, who helps the most. She scoots along the bench to Octavia and touches her skin with a tentative finger. “You're green. Are you sick?” “It's a fashion thing, Posy. Like wearing lipstick,” I say. “It's meant to be pretty,” whispers Octavia, and I can see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. Posy considers this and says matter-of-factly, “I think you'd be pretty in any color.

I miss him so badly it hurts.

I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

I volunteer!" I gasp. "I volunteer as tribute!

It's not easy to find a topic. Talking of home is painful. Talking of the present unbearable.

I'm relieved Peeta's alive. I tell myself again that if I get killed, his winnings will benefit my mother and Prim the most. This is what I tell myself to explain the conflicting emotions that arise when I think of Peeta. The gratitude that he game an edge by professing his love for me in the interview. The anger at his superiority on the roof. The dread that we may come face-to-face at any moment in this arena.

What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don't know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I'm sure he doesn't remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite.

He could have had his choice of any woman in the district. And he chose solitude. Not solitude – that sounds too peaceful. More like solitary confinement.

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of other stylists have tried to steal Cinna and Portia's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from Distric 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? Pathetic.

Living out here, I have found that many creatures would prefer not to fight. But if your first instinct is to reach for your sword, you will never discover that.

As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendez-vous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think.

Each time I wake,I think, At last, this is over, but it isn't.

Live your life, take chances, be crazy. Dont wait 'cause right now is the oldest you've ever been & the youngest you'll be ever again

But in my head I can hear Haymitch's smug, if slightly exasperated, words: "Yes, that's what I'm looking for, sweetheart.

Peeta?" I creep along the bank. "Well, don't step on me.

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

I turn and put my lips close to Peeta's and drop my eyelids in imitation... "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," I say in my best seductive voice.

He felt around desperately for a weapon. What did he have? Diapers? Cookies? Oh, why hadn't they given him a sword? He was the stupid warrior, wasn't he? His fingers dug in the leather bag and closed around the root beer can. Root beer! He yanked out the can shaking it with all his might. "Attack! Attack!" he yelled.

He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.

Finally, Peeta turns to Pollux. "Well, then you just became our most valuable asset." Castor laughs and Pollux manages a smile. We're halfway down the first tunnel when I realize what was so remarkable about that exchange. Peeta sounded like his old self, the one who could always think of the right thing to say when nobody else could... I glance back at him as he trudges along under his guards, Gale and Jackson, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched forward. So dispirited. But for a moment, he was really here.

Making knots. Making knots. No word. Making knots. Tick-tock. This is a clock. Do not think of Gale. Do not think of Peeta. Making knots.

You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real.

Well you are a piece of work aren't you?

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

They hadn’t counted on the highly controlled jabberjay having the brains to adapt to the wild, to pass on its genetic code, to thrive in a new form. They hadn’t anticipated its will to live.

It’s the final word in camouflage. Forget chucking weights around. Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree. Or a boulder. Or a muddy bank full of weeds.

But what was it Haymitch said when I asked if he had told Peeta the situation? That he had to pretend to be desperately in love? “Don’t have to. He’s already there.

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

Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.

Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.

Is that why you hate me?" I ask. "Partly," She admits. "Jealousy is certainly involved. I also think you're a little hard to swallow. With your tacky romantic drama and your defender-of-the-helpless act. Only it isn't an act, which makes you more unbearable. Please feel free to take this personally.