Quotes from Suzanne Collins

usually rents a white dress that's been worn hundreds of times. The man wears something clean that's not mining clothes. They fill out some forms at the Justice Building and are assigned a house. Family and friends gather for a meal or bit of cake, if it can be afforded. Even if it can't, there's always a traditional song we sing as the new couple

Hi ha excursions que un ha d'emprendre tot sol.

No. I will never get him back. So then dead is best.

To become the Mockingjay . . . could any good I do possibly outweigh the damage?

We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt.

Where are you, Cato?

hard time adjusting to being underground so much. But after the surreal encounter with the

Podries demanar la lluna i segur que buscarien la manera d'acontentar-te.

She will fly with you always. You know this. She will fly with you always.

As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie's gown were done by Cinna's hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta's.

You know how to kill." "Not people," I say. "How different can it be, really?" says Gale grimly.

Les guerres no duren per sempre.

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

But will Peeta know that or will he keep fighting? He's so strong and such a good liar. Does he think he has a chance of surviving? Does he even care if he does? He wasn't planning on it, anyway. He had already signed off on life. Maybe, if he knows I was rescued, he's even happy. Feels he fulfilled his mission to keep me alive. I think I hate him even more than I do Haymitch.

He says he'd like to see you." I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet. My palms press into the wall to steady myself. This wasn't part of the plan. I wrote Peeta off in 2. Then I was to go to the Capitol, kill Snow, and get taken out myself. The gunshot was only a temporary setback.

One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow. but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.

by Tim O'Brien Cover design by Elizabeth B. Parisi & Phil Falco e-ISBN: 978-0-545-22993-7 All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of

I swear, now that my family and Gale's are out of harm's way, I could run away. Except for one unfinished piece of business. Peeta. If I knew for sure that he was dead, I could just disappear into the woods and never look back. But until I do, I'm stuck.

head, some at least thirty stories and finished in artful peaks and

Someone throws me a red rose. I catch it, give it a delicate sniff, and blow a kiss back in the general direction of the giver. A hundred hands reach up to catch my kiss, as if it were a real and tangible thing.

We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count.

I even have a funny notion that if I do die, maybe Peeta will be allowed to live. Not as a free person but as an Avox or something, waiting on the future tributes of District 12. Then maybe he could find some way to escape. My death could, in fact, still save him.

There was no choice, ultimately.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm The final lines are barely audible. Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here