Quotes About Vulnerability

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

It's just that I didn't understand when I met you. After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act on your part. We all expected you'd continue that strategy. But it wasn't until Peeta hit the force field and nearly died that I —" Finnick hesitates.

I wasn't going to tell you until after the Hunger Games . . ." She fell silent. "But now you have to," he said. "Or, I'll imagine the worst things possible. Please, just tell me.

It's better for him than Johanna. They'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you,

Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn't recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It's the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. "You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers. "Real," I answer.

Oh, right, I'm supposed to be pregnant, I think. While I'm trying to think what that means and how I should act, maybe throw up or something, Finnick has positioned himself at the edge of the water.

Al fin y al cabo, ambos eran niños cuyas vidas dependían de poderes superiores a ellos.

I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetite of those in charge protect me.

We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.

Games anyway. Who cares what they do to me? What really scares me is what they might do to my mother and Prim, how my family might suffer now because of my impulsiveness. Will they take their few belongings, or send my mother to prison and Prim to the community home, or kill them? They wouldn't kill them, would they? Why not? What do they

You think I'm heartless." "I know you're not. But I won't tell you it's okay," I say.

We're sideswiped by a gurney bearing an unconscious, emaciated young woman with a shaved head. Her flesh shows bruises and oozing scabs. Johanna Mason. Who actually knew rebel secrets. At least the one about me. And this is how she has paid for it.

I stand there, completely naked, as the three circle me, wielding tweezers to remove any last bits of hair. I know I should be embarrassed, but they're so unlike people that I'm no more self-conscious than if a trio of oddly colored birds were pecking around my feet.

I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous than an unkind one

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.

Naked bodies are no big deal in the arena, right?

A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one.

One time, when I was in a hide in a tree, waiting motionless for game to wander by, I dozed off and fell three metres to the ground, landing on my back. It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs, and I lay there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything. That

the mirror that reflects my naked fire-mutt body.

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.

As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin. It was a bad habit that blinded him to other things that could harm him.

Trust is important." "I think it's more important than love. I mean, I love all kinds of things I don't trust. Thunderstorms... white liquor... snakes. Sometimes I think I love them because I can't trust them, and how mixed up is that?

You're cold." Taking a spare blanket from the foot of the bed, she wraps it around all three of us, enveloping me in her warmth and Buttercup's furry heat as well. "You could tell me, you know. I'm good at keeping secrets. Even from Mother." She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail, the one who needed help reaching the dishes, and who begged to see the frosted cakes in the bakery window.