“I start to crack at four hundred to one.”

“So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar.Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.”

“I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can't help him.”

“The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.”

“Ripred sighed. 'I suppose so. You and I seem to end up doing everything. Shall we say four members for each delegation?' 'Why not?' Luxa said. 'Four can be as stupid as ten. No need to crowd the room.' Ripred laughed. 'You know, I think you an I are going to get on famously.”

“Oh, well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do. Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.”

“Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel. "You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know," Haymitch says.”