Quote

He felt around desperately for a weapon. What did he have? Diapers? Cookies? Oh, why hadn't they given him a sword? He was the stupid warrior, wasn't he? His fingers dug in the leather bag and closed around the root beer can. Root beer! He yanked out the can shaking it with all his might. Attack! Attack! he yelled.

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
Around
Attack
Shaking
Might
Fingers
Weapon
Yanked
Roots
Bags
Yelled
Weapons
Root
Diapers
Stupid
Closed
Sword
Wasn
Hadn
Cookies
Felt
Warrior
Desperately
Given
Beer
Leather

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His dad said even the cavemen had geniuses among them. Somebody had thought up the wheel.
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Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die.
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But what was it Haymitch said when I asked if he had told Peeta the situation? That he had to pretend to be desperately in love? “Don’t have to. He’s already there.
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But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.
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Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate?
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Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of make my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
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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 sit in silence awhile then I blurt out the thing that's on both our minds. How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?
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Sometimes when things are particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream. [...] When I fully awaken, I'm momentarily comforted. I try to hold on to the peaceful feeling of the dream, but it quickly slips away, leaving me sadder than ever.
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I have not wept since the death of my parents, said Luxa quietly. But I am thought to be unnatural in this respect.
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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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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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I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss. But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to time in the past! I say.
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I can't help comparing what I have with Gale to what I'm pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale's motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter's. It's not a fair comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other's survival means our own death. How do you sidestep that?
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We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss, says Plutarch. While you live, the revolution lives.
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Allow me to translate, Twitchtip said, not even bothering to move. She said if you don't stop your incessant babble, that big rat sitting in the boat next to you will rip your head off.
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While I was waiting...I ate your lunch.
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As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.
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Greeting to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed, he says. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.
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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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