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I go back to my room and lie under the covers, trying not to think of Gale and thinking of nothing else.

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
Rooms
Lying
Else
Back
Nothing
Trying
Gale
Think
Covers
Thinking
Room

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Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.
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Anyway, even if she's sugarcoating my good points, I appreciate it. Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.
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So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. - Peeta Mellark
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A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate . . . .
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It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.
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Do i really want him dead? What i want... what i want is to have him back.
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I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.
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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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They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.
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Great. Now I have to go back and tell Haymitch I want an eighty-year-old and Nuts and Volts for my allies. He'll love that.
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If I'm going to cry, now is the time. By morning, I'll be able to wash all the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.
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It's ideal really. They will come up with a plan. No one will like it. Everyone will feel they have been treated unfairly, but will be happy that their neighbors feel the same. And that is the nature of compromise. Now let's go eat an awful lot.
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What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?
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I know. I was hoping, I say. Exactly. Because you're desperate, says Haymitch. I don't argue because, of course, he's right.
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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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