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Barbarism? That's ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare us for slaughter. And what's she basing our success on? Our table manners?

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
Woman
Slaughter
Helping
Ironic
Prepare
Manners
Table
Tables
Coming
Basing
Success
Barbarism

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Whatever the opposite of fine is, that's what I am.
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Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way.
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We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.
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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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But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
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Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.
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There was no discussion between them it was as if the bugs had worked out this whole scenario long ago. Temp put on a burst of speed for the end of the bridge, and Tick turned to face down the army of rats alone.
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I don't know how to say it exactly. Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense? he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself. I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not.
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I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good.
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My death could, in fact, save him. If it can't, no matter. It's enough to die of spite. To punish Haymitch, who, of all the people in this rotting world, has turned Peeta and me into pieces in his Games. I trusted him. I put what was precious in Haymitch's hands. And he has betrayed me.
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A spark could be enough to set them ablaze.
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Birds are settling down for the night, singing lullabies to their young.
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It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.
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I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food.
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I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.
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Yes, I’m a mouse. Squeak, squeak. Now shoo-shoo back to your little bug friends,” said Rirped, picking up a hunk of dried beef. He tore a off a piece with his teeth and noticed Boots hadn’t moved. He pulled back his lips to reveal a row of jagged teeth and gave her a sharp hiss.
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Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.
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Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. You mean this will make me puke? My prep team laughs hysterically. Of course, so you can keep eating, says Octavia. I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?
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Just the perfect touch of rebellion, says Haymitch Very nice. Rebellion?
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