I’m not good at talking about myself.
Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. In a moment, he will realize it’s futile, she can’t be saved.
And suddenly, it’s as if there’s no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible.
This is what birds see. Only they’re free and safe. The very opposite of me.
My voice, at first rough and breaking on the high notes, warms up into something splendid. A voice that would make the mockingjays fall silent and then tumble over themselves to join in.
It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant.
Living out here, I have found that many creatures would prefer not to fight. But if your first instinct is to reach for your sword, you will never discover that.
Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he’ll never come back to me. Or i’ll never go back to him. I’ll die for my trouble. And he’ll die insane and hating me.
Not only does he hate me, and want to kill me, he no longer believes I’m human. It was less painful being strangled.
If the careers want me, let them find me.
Tick tock, this is a clock.
Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.
My sleep wasn’t peaceful, though. I have the sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where I traveled alone.
Anyway, even if she’s sugarcoating my good points, I appreciate it. Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.
For me, it’s better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand. -Peeta.
Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
If he wants me broken, then I will have to be whole.
Just remember, stealing’s punishable by death.
The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.
Whenever I write a story, I hope it appeals to both boys and girls.