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Buttercup, miserable even with Prim’s constant attention, huddles in the cube and exhales cat breath in my face.
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
Breath
Breaths
Miserable
Constant
Prim
Face
Buttercup
Attention
Cube
Faces
Cubes
Even
Cat
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I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?
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Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.
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You call that a kiss?
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Eyes on the forest, not on the trees.
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A faint light burned in the pit revealing a furry creature hunched over a stone slab, fiddling with something. At first Gregor raised a warning hand. He thought it was a rat. Then the creature lifted his head and Gregor recognized what was left of his dad.
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I say we try it,' says Peeta. 'Katniss is right.' Finnick looks at Johanna and raises his eyebrows. He will not go forward without her. 'All right,' she says finally. 'It's better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.
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But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow.
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Ally. Peeta says the words slowly, tasting it. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out. The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up.
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I know we promised Haymitch, we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle.' 'Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?' says Peeta. 'With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,' I say.
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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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Haymich finally drops the good-natured act. you know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first. Of course I do. Gale.
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Behind a rack of framed photos of Snow, we encounter a wounded Peacekeeper propped up against a strip of brick wall. He asks us for help. Gale knees him in the side of the head and takes his gun.
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My death could, in fact, save him. If it can't, no matter. It's enough to die of spite. To punish Haymitch, who, of all the people in this rotting world, has turned Peeta and me into pieces in his Games. I trusted him. I put what was precious in Haymitch's hands. And he has betrayed me.
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deep in the meadow , under the willow , a bed of grass , a soft green pillow
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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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Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.
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So I only say, So what should we do with our last few days? I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you, Peeta replies.
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It's your own fault for being so camera-ready, I tell Gale. If looks could kill.
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