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Of course you are. The tributes were necessary to the Games, too. Until they weren't, I say. And then we were very disposable - right, Plutarch?

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
Courses
Course
Games
Tributes
Right
Plutarch
Disposable
Tribute
Weren
Necessary

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Better not to give in to 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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We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared
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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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When I was young I was trained in stage fighting and rapier and dagger, for several years.
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Who says i can't handle it? I can handle it, said Gregor obviously not handling it.
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It's as if I'm Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee's trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then its over.
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Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now.
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Doors are for those who lack enemies.
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I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. Tuck your tail in, little duck, I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and give me a small Quack. Quack yourself, I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.
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I guess there isn’t a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.
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Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.
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No more kisses for you, until you have eaten !
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You never know. Say the arena's actually a giant cake- Say we move on, I broke in.
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I roll my eyes. So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol? No, about six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded.
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Just the sound of his voice twists my stomach into a knot of unpleasant emotions like guilt, sadness and fear. And longing. I might as well admit there’s some of that too.
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All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More 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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I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. I should've drowned you when I had the chance. His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.
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The star-crossed lovers
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