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I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

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
Passes
Ease
Keep
Part
Back
Going
Regain
Time
Futile
Hoping

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I drink in his wholeness, the soudness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks.
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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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Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.
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Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.
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Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
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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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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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A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate . . . .
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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.
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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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Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there and gaze at me forever.
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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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Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.
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You and me Haymitch.Very cozy.Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights sitting around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tale. -Peeta Mellark
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Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.
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Why don't I just pretend I'm on camera, Plutarch? I say. Yes! Perfect. One is always much braver with an audience, he says. Look at the courage Peeta just displayed! It's all I can do not to slap him.
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But once I saw Fulvia Cardew crumple up a sheet of paper with just a couple of words written on it and you would’ve thought she’d murdered someone from the looks she got.
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He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television. Are you and Beetee going? I ask. As many young and attractive victors as possible, Haymitch corrects himself. So, no. We'll be here.
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Once I'm on my feet i realize escape might not be so simple, panic begins to set in. i can't stay here. flight is essential but i can't let my fear show. Winning means fame and fortune, losing mean certain death, The Hunger Games have begun . . .
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Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but I do care for some people.
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