“Yes, victors are our strongest. They're the ones who survived the arena and slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us. They, or should I say we, are the very embodiment of hope where there is no hope. And now twenty-three of us will be killed to show how even that hope was an illusion.”

“What hope is there?” I asked. “If even angels fall, what hope is there for the rest of us?”“There isn’t,” he said. “We’re on our own. And we have to make the choices we think are best for our own survival.”

“Thank God for our illusions, it gives us the rest of hope, and the rest of consolation”

“It's an illusion, control," Naomi said. "You ought to understand that by now, young Claire. We are never in control of our destinies, even the strongest of us. All we can hope to do is not be too badly damaged by events.”

“The handholds for hope are there for all of us but are made plainest to those in poverty, for whom survival actually depends on hope in their God.”

“Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment. We feel that someone else knows what's going on, but that there's something missing in us, and therefore something is lacking in our world.”