“When I make a pretty good hook (...) she gives me a toothless smile and an unintelligeble comment I think might be praise.”

“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.”

“I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I thinks she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.”

“Even though I don't ask, Plutarch gives me cheerful updates on the phone like "Good news, Katniss! I think we've almost got him convinced you're not a mutt!" Or "Today he was allowed to feed himself pudding!”

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

“This perplexing, good natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly to be hopelessly in love with me ... and I admit it there are moments when he makes me believe it myself.”

“By late afternoon I lie with my head in Peeta’s lap making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair claiming he is practicing knots. After awhile his hands go still.“What?” I ask.“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I’m so relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out.“Okay,” I say.I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”“I’ll allow it.”