“The things that I loved were very frail. Very fragile. I didn't know that. I thought they were indestructible. They weren't.”

“I truly thought I might hurt that man," he said, "very badly.""I didn't know you were capable of such bad temper.""Apparently I am.”

“Of course you are. The tributes were necessary to the Games, too. Until they weren't," I say. "And then we were very disposable - right, Plutarch?”

“Love is a very light thing. Love is so fragil and frail. You can not hold it in your hand or weigh it on a scale. Cigarette smoke, that's all it is, wispy and curling around. Oh, it takes a lot of love to make a pound.”

“And then I met the most wonderful boy in the world. We would take long walks by the river. We spent hours gazing into each others eyes. We were so very much in love. And then one day, he went away. And I thought I'd die, but I didn't. And when I didn't, I said to myself... is that all there is to love?”

“They weren't scared, or dispossessed, or fragile. They were possible.”