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I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

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
Would
Belong
Presenting
People
Send
Fatigue
Thank
Wash
Ridiculous
Painted
Dalton
Recognize
Imperfection
Perverse
Silent
Mask
Imperfections
Feel
Makeup
Capitol
Feels
Damage
Suggesting

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So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.
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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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He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice...In exchange, he trusted me with his.
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Well, I can't leave Mags behind, says Finnick. She's one of the few people who actually likes me.
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You would think after all the hours I’d spent with Gale– watching him talk and laugh and frown– that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands [...] could entrap me… I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest.
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There's a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule,' he says. 'Done,' I say. 'Did you follow it at all today?' he asks in exasperation. 'Who knows? I'm mentally disoriented.' I hold up my wrist to show my medical bracelet and realize it's gone. 'See? I can't even remember they took my bracelet.' (Katniss and Boggs)
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I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I thinks she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name. And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.
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Let the Seventy-forth Hunger Games begin, Cato, I think. Let them begin for real.
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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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In that one slight motion, I see the end of hope, beginning of destruction of everything I hold dear in the world. I can't guess what form my punishment will take, how wide the net will be cast, but when it is finished there most likely be nothing left. So you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair.
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Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children's lives to settle its differences. You can spin it any way you like... But in the end, who does it benefit? No one. The truth is, it benefits no one to live in a world where these things happen
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That what? That I knew i misjudged you. That you love him. I'm not saying In what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him, he says gently.
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Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!
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I'm going to be the Mockingjay.
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And she's my fiancee. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.
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If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Just keep turning it back around, all right. Gush.
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I'm very hard to catch, says Rue. And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out.
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Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.
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Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.
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My name is Katniss Everdeen. My home is District Twelve. Peeta was taken prisoner. He is thought to be dead. Most likely is dead. It would probably be best if he were dead... - Katniss EverdeenS
Suzanne Collins