Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Remember that even in war there is a time for restraint. A time to hold back your sword.
Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.
And here I am, strapped into a tree, a stone's throw from the biggest idiot in the games.
His dad said even the cavemen had geniuses among them. Somebody had thought up the wheel.
At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.
What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.
Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together.
When I was young I was trained in stage fighting and rapier and dagger, for several years.
I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn't be fair on my part.
Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.
When I was young, I was trained in stage fighting and rapier and dagger for several years.
Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, “Music.
I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it.
If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.
I guess there isn’t a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.
Your only defense can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions.
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise.
The audience must be sick to death of the star-crossed lovers from District 12. I know I am.
I wish she was dead,' he says. 'I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.
Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave.
Fine, than I will not have to blame you for killing my friends with your stupidity. -Haymitch
It's not easy to find a topic. Talking of home is painful. Talking of the present unbearable.
They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!
I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good.
Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams.
In our world, I rank music somewhere between hair ribbons and rainbows in terms of usefulness.
Kids have so much screen time, and it's a concern. I know how overloaded I can feel sometimes.
What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?
What happens when we get back? I don't know. I guess we try and forget. I don't want to forget.
Got it," I say. "Did you tell Peeta this?" "Don't have to," says Haymitch. "He's already there.
A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.
So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.
The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me; Why I belong to them.
In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.
I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself.
Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.
We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.
How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?” “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” I say.
I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet.
On and on we seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count.
Embrace the probability of your imminent death....and know there is nothing i can do to save you.
One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.
But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say. "Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real.
She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail.
But after several hours, I go anyway, walking in silent sock feet, so as not to awaken the ghosts.
He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.
maybe it's that we are all so starved for something good to happen that we want to be a part of it.
Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness...except possibly when it comes to you.