Suzanne Collins

“My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.”

“You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together.”

“Better not to give in to it.”

“Peeta iria colocar tudo a perder se soubesse o que estou pensando, então apenas digo. "Então o que deveríamos fazer com os nossos últimos dias?""Eu só queria passar cada minuto possível do resto da minha vida contigo" Peeta responde.”

“They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stiring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was easier, but not much.The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials have been built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they still teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. how can I tell them about that world without frightning them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted: Deep in the meadow, under the willowA bed of grass, a soft green pillowLay down your head, and close your eyesAnd when again they open, the sun will riseHere it's safe, here it's warmHere the daisies guard you from every harmHere your dreams are sweet snd tomorrow brings them trueHere is the place where I love you.”

“It's strange to be so physically close to someone who's so distant”

“For me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand. -Peeta”

“I wish I could think of a way to show them that they don't own me. If I'm going to die, I still want to be me.”

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

“If I burn, you burn with me”

“Finnick:" Good to see you, Peeta."Peeta:" You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you." It could be a joke, if the tone wasn't so cold. Everything it conveys is wrong. The open distrust of Finnick, the implication that Peeta has his eye on Annie, that Annie could desert Finnick, that I do not even exist.Finnick:"Oh Peeta," says Finnick lightly. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.”

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me.”

“Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch – this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.”

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

“I just... I just miss him. And hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must”

“If you had hope, maybe you could find a way to make things change,. Because if you thought about it, there were so many reasons to try.”

“How much energy they put into harming each other. How little into saving.”

“If he wants me broken, then I will have to be whole.”

“It's weird, how much he's noticed me... And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either.”

“So what I'd really like is to try and conceal him somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him. But I have a feeling his ego isn't going to go for that suggestion.”

“No, true story," Peeta says. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.”

“Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.”

“Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before.""I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather.""I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.”

“For what? Nothing's going on here," he says. "Besides I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot.”

“I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type.”

“Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.”

“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”

“We could do it, you know.”

“The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls.”

“come deve essere, mi chiedo, vivere in un mondo in cui i pasti compaiono premendo premendo un pulsante? Come passerei le ore che di solito dedico a setacciare i boschi, se il cibo fosse così facile da trovare?”

“I buoni hanno un modo tutto loro di entrarmi nel cuore e metterci le radici. E non posso lasciare che lo faccia Peeta. Non dove stiamo andando”

“Twirl for me.”

“When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It's the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he's offered me any sort of affection. He's been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lovers? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go.And why should I?”

“I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I've seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers' guns away from me in District 11. I don't know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don't notice much because they're so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they're a light golden color and so long I don't see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks.”

“Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. ...After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair."Katniss... If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life", he says. "I would never be happy again."I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. "It's different for you. I'm not sayin it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who'd make your life worth living." ... "Your family needs you, Katniss", Peeta says.My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta's intension is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I'll marry him. So Peeta's giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn't ever have doubts about it.Everithing. That's what Peeta wants me to take from him...."No one really needs me", he says, and there's no self-pity in his voice. It's true his family doesen't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me."I do", I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.”

“I reach out and take his hand.“Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out,” I say mischievously.“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.”“What’s the problem?” I say with a grin.“The problem is we’re both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing,” says Peeta.“I did do the right thing,” I say.“No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?”I’m startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. “Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren’t the only one who . . . who worries about . . . what it would be like if. . .”I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home.And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.“If what, Katniss?” he says softly.I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine.“That’s exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of,” I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he’s probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.“Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me.This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious.This is the first kiss that makes me want another.But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted.“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.”

“By late afternoon I lie with my head in Peeta’s lap making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair claiming he is practicing knots. After awhile his hands go still.“What?” I ask.“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I’m so relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out.“Okay,” I say.I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”“I’ll allow it.”

“I'm more than just a piece in their Games.”

“Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field.”

“What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.”

“It'd be better if he were easier to hate.”

“Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female... I am going back into the arena.”

“I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him for ever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I look up and there he was, three metres away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking and crying.”

“Im still betting on you. - Cinna.”

“It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting. And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. The flour. The wrestling. I have kept track of the boy with the bread.”

“My mockingjay pin now lives with Cinna's outfit, but there's the gold locket and the silver parachute with the spile and Peeta's pearl. I knot the pearl into the corner of the parachute, bury it deep in the recesses of the bag, as if it's Peeta's life and no one can take it away as long as I guard it.”

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

“I'm running on hate.”

“We were five. You had a plaid dress and your hair...it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out while we were waiting to line up. He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.' And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.' So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She put you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, ever bird outside the windows fell silent. And right when your song ended, I knew -just like your mother- I was a goner.”

“Here's some advice. Stay alive," says Haymitch, and then bursts out laughing. I exchange a look with Peeta before I remember that I'm having nothing more to do with him. I'm surprised to see the hardness in his eyes. He generally seems so mild. 'That's very funny,' says Peeta. Suddenly, he lashes out at the glass in Haymitch's hand. It shatters on the floor, sending the bloodred liquid running toward the back of the train. 'Only not to us.'Haymitch considers this a moment, then punches Peeta in the jaw, knocking him from his chair. When he turns back to reach for the spirits, I drive my knife into the table between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers. I brace myself to deflect his hit, but it doesn't come. Instead, he sits back and squints at us.'Well, what's this?' says Haymitch. 'Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?”