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Ladies and gentlemen..... His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!

Suzanne Collins

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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Room
Ladies
Rooms
Gentleman
Games
Rings
Voice
Hunger
Mines
Sixth
Mine
Seventy
Begin
Gentlemen
Quiet
Seventies

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Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.
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Of course you are. The tributes were necessary to the Games, too. Until they weren't, I say. And then we were very disposable - right, Plutarch?
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Want a sugar cube?- Finnick Odair,
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That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner.
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A spark could be enough to set them ablaze.
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They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.
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I flee what I can't fight. What can only do me harm.
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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, Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, Here is the place where I love you.
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As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.
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Just remember, stealing's punishable by death
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We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared
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We could do it, you know.
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Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
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I'm more than just a piece in their Games.
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The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.
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I pound on the glass, screaming my head off. Everyone ignores me except for some Capitol attendant who appears behind me and offers me a beverage.
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My guess is that fearful events are the hardest to root out. They're the ones we naturally remember the best, after all.
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What have the nibblers ever done for you? The breeze ruffled her hair, pushing it back from her face, giving him a clear shot of her eyes. They were asking for an answer. Needing to know if she could count on him. They saved your life, he said. And for just a moment, Luxa's face softened and she smiled.
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But once I saw Fulvia Cardew crumple up a sheet of paper with just a couple of words written on it and you would’ve thought she’d murdered someone from the looks she got.
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I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.
Suzanne Collins