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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.
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
Unpleasant
Emotion
Twists
Sound
Stomach
Voice
Admit
Fear
Longing
Wells
Guilt
Might
Sadness
Knot
Well
Knots
Like
Emotions
More quotes by Suzanne Collins
Whatever the opposite of fine is, that's what I am.
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Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
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I had to do that. At least once.
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I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble.
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I’m in pain. That’s the only way I get your attention
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I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best. Well, there's no good response to that. I can hardly dispute it since I was walking around with a syringe to kill Peeta when I found them. Do I really want him dead? What I want...what I want is to have him back.
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Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams.
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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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Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences.
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You’re not leaving me here alone,” I say. Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.
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The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.
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One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.
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It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.
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The more you can distract yourself, the better.
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I don't write about adolescence. I write about war. For adolescents.
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I killed you. And you. And you.
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The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion.
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I must have loved you a lot.
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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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They don't own me. If I'm gonna die, I wanna still be me.
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