Quotes About Survival

Actually, it was only part of myself I wanted to kill: the part that wanted to kill herself, that dragged me into the suicide debate and made every window, kitchen implement, and subway station a rehearsal for tragedy.

In a strange way we were free. We'd reached the end of the line. We had nothing more to lose. Our privacy, our liberty, our dignity: all of this was gone and we were stripped down to the bare bones of our selves

I cannot even earn a living as a whore.

And I'm standing there, and I think, damn. I think, this is it. I'm going to die. Right here, right now—simply because I am a black man in an American city.

God knows without hope, very few could survive.

He pushed her down onto the floor, thrusting himself in front of her as he drew his gun from the back waistband of his jeans. Four to one, no six —shit, there were six gunmen! He might've been able to take four if he used up his life's allotment of miracles all at once, but six ! He'd have to fire first and keep firing even after he was hit.

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.

I don't want to lose the boy with the bread.

I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

There are much worse games to play.

District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.

Here's some advice. Stay alive.

Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people.

You're not leaving me here alone," I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.

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 when we get 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.

We could do it, you know." "What?" "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.

Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

Katniss. I remember about the bread.

They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!

Oh, Peeta, Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.

Katniss," Gale says softly. I recognize that voice. It's the same one he uses to approach wounded animals before he delivers a deathblow. I Instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly. Don't," I whisper. But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. Katniss, There is no District Twelve.

I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in things because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.

I'm more than just a piece in their Games.