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Maybe I'll be like that man in The Hanging Tree'. Still waiting for an answer.

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
Answers
Maybe
Waiting
Stills
Still
Men
Hanging
Like
Answer
Tree

More quotes by Suzanne Collins

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Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at.
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While I was waiting...I ate your lunch.
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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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Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.
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There's no district 12 to escape from now, no Peacekeepers to trick, no hungry mouths to feed. The Capitol took away all of that, and I'm on the verge of losing Gale as well. The glue of mutual needs that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away.
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Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious about you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem
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Haymich finally drops the good-natured act. you know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first. Of course I do. Gale.
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No matter what I do, I'm hurting someone. - Katniss Everdeen
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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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Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
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Just one more thing. I kill Snow.
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No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But what then ... what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some.
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But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece o time we call today.
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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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No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her.
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One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.
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Better not to give in to it.
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What happens when we get back? I don't know. I guess we try and forget. I don't want to forget.
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I had to do that. At least once.
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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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