“Then Octavia drops to her knees, rubs the hem of a skirt against her cheek, and burst into tears. "It's been so long," she gasps, "since I've seen anything pretty.”

“It's meant to be pretty," whispers Octavia, and I can see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes.Posy considers this and says matter-of-factly, "I think you'd be pretty in any color."The tiniest of smiles forms on Octavia's lips. "Thank you.”

“But it's Posy, Gale's five-year-old sister, who helps the most. She scoots along the bench to Octavia and touches her skin with a tentative finger. “You're green. Are you sick?”“It's a fashion thing, Posy. Like wearing lipstick,” I say.“It's meant to be pretty,” whispers Octavia, and I can see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes.Posy considers this and says matter-of-factly, “I think you'd be pretty in any color.”

“I think you'd be pretty in any color."-Posy to Octavia”

“Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. "You mean this will make me puke?" My prep team laughs hysterically. "Of course, so you can keep eating," says Octavia. "I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?”

“Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything.”

“And then there was Tick. Brave little Tick, who had flown into the faces of an army of rats to save his baby sister. Tick - who never spoke much. Tick - who shared her food. Tick - who was after all just a roach. Just a roach who had given all the time she had left so that Boots could have more.Gregor pressed Boots's fingers against his lips and felt scalding tears begin to slide down his cheeks. He hadn't cried, not the whole time he'd been down here, and there had been plenty of bad stuff. But somehow Tick's sacrifice had crushed whatever thin shell remained between him and sorrow.”