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I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I'm so grateful that he's here, not dead by the stream as I'd thought. So glad I don't have to face Cato alone.
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
Alone
Streams
Cato
Audience
Pull
Chin
Face
Kiss
Forehead
Faces
Kissing
Chins
Thought
Glad
Foreheads
Grateful
Stream
Dead
Sleeping
Sleep
Bags
More quotes by Suzanne Collins
Crying is not an option.
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I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can't help him.
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Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.
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Peeta I said Stay with me I heard him say one word before the drigs pulled me under, I realised later that what he said was 'always
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Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!
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To be honest, I'm not much of a drinker. It makes me sick, and I hate that.
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I look down from the branch I'm perched on. The Careers look murderous. Now I smile.'How have things been with you?' I ask sweetly.
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Eyes on the forest, not on the trees.
Suzanne Collins
Peeta? I creep along the bank. Well, don't step on me.
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KEEP CALM and HAVE A SUGAR CUBE
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I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door. Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.
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I'm not a very fancy person. I've been a writer a long time, and right now 'The Hunger Games' is getting a lot of focus. It'll pass. The focus will be on something else. It'll shift. It always does. And that seems just fine.
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I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. then drop them to my sides. Saliva's filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and i feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and-that's when i start crying.
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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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All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.
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its not in my nature to go down without a fight even when things seem insurmountable
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Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you.
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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?
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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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My spirit. This is a new thought. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I'm a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It's not as if I'm never friendly. Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but i do care for some people.
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