“I feel a hunger now- a real hunger-for letting the pool still itself & seeing the reflections.”

“Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.”

“I could endure the hunger. I had learned to live with hate. But to feel that there was feeling denied me, that the very breath of life itself was beyond my reach, that more than anything else hurt, wounded me. I had a new hunger.”

“There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive.”

“I commit her to memory. When I'm alone, I feel a strange yearning, the hunger of a man fasting not because he believes but because he's ashamed. Not the cleansing hunger of the devout, but the feverish hunger of the hypocrite. I let her go every evening only because there's nothing I can do to stop her.”

“I feel again the hunger to let go of my striving and find the ability to become content and still, intentionally "superfluous," as writer Helen M. Luke puts it. I want a refuge from my old conquering self.”