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He frosted under heavy guard.

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
Frosted
Guard
Heavy

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Want a sugar cube? he asks in his old seductive voice.
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because I have learned the hard way how deadly these beauties can be.
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I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.
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I will never have a life with Gale even if I want to.
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The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell…well she never kissed me like that…I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then…I guess it’s Katniss’ problem. Who to choose…Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.
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I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?
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My mouth has gone dry as sawdust. I desperately find Cinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine the words coming from his lips. 'What's impressed you most since you arrived here?' I rack my brain for something that made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest.
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I’ve stopped talking because there’s really nothing left to say and there’s this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I’m even having a heart attack, but it doesn’t seem worth mentioning.
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Upon this crown my pledge I give, To my last breath,I hold this choice, I will your unjust deaths avenge, All here who died without a voice.
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Remember that even in war there is a time for restraint. A time to hold back your sword.
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In other words, I step out of line and we're all dead.
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Doors are for those who lack enemies.
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Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches bleeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much.
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You would think after all the hours I’d spent with Gale– watching him talk and laugh and frown– that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands [...] could entrap me… I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest.
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I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
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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.
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A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate . . . .
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And then, if you make it to bedtime, you feel the joy of cheating death out of one more day, she said. Do you see?
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For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.
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Live your life, take chances, be crazy. Dont wait 'cause right now is the oldest you've ever been & the youngest you'll be ever again
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