“Say it again,” he says.“That whole drawn-out speech?” I remember something about a solar system, but I’m too light-headed to recite the entire thing all over again.He steps closer. “No. The part about you fallin’ for me.”

“But it’s atheists who say that the world wasn’t made by anyone, and you say you’re not an atheist . . ."I’m not because I can’t bring myself to believe that all these things we see around us—the way trees and fruits grow, and the solar system, and our brains—came about by chance. They’re too well made. And therefore there must have been a creating mind. God.”

“Agreed," I say. "It's going to be a long hour.""Maybe not that long," says Peeta." what was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me ... no competition ... best thing that ever happened to you ... "" I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush." Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking," he says " Scoot over, I'm freezing.”

“Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, “Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that’s the whole art and joy of words.” A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the centre of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you’ll not talk about joy of words.”

“And he says, “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. And I think I realized that I’maverage, that there’s nothing remarkable about me. And I wanted to know if this is something otherpeople think about.”

“If I should have a daughter… I’m gonna paint the solar system on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say ‘oh I know that like the back of my hand.”