“When writing a novel, that's pretty much entirely what life turns into: 'House burned down. Car stolen. Cat exploded. Did 1500 easy words, so all in all it was a pretty good day.”

“Here's what Mike knew about kids: They did stupid stuff. Pretty much all of them.”

“I wasn't that good you know. What I was was a guy who could write a little, publishing in magazines surrounded by people who couldn't write at all. So I looked pretty good. But I never thought I was that good at all. All that I thought was that I tried to tell the truth.”

“He put on his hat and wrapped his scarf around his jaw, but did without the wig and the sunglasses. He clicked his key chain and the car beeped and the doors locked."That's it?"He looked up. "Sorry?""Aren't you afraid it might get stolen? We're not exactly in a good part of town.""It's got a car alarm.""Don't you, like, cast a spell or something? To keep it safe?""No. It's a pretty good car alarm.”

“What a gift. This page is briefly stained by my tears of gratitude. Novelists don't usually have it so good, do they, when something real happens (something unified, dramatic and pretty saleable), and they just write it down?”

“But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse, volunteers are all but extinct.”