So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.
It’s not wondering what I breathe in, but who, that threatens to choke me.
As coal pressured into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain.
So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally. I know it can't be your sunny personality.” “They saw her shoot,” says Peeta with a smile. “Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time. I'm about to put in a formal request myself.” “You're that good?” Haymitch asks me.
You don't destroy what you want to acquire in the future.
But some secrets are too delicious not to share.
I volunteer!" I gasp. "I volunteer as tribute!
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 . . .
Because...because...she came here with me.
My mother just wanted me to forget it. So, of course, every word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.
My mockingjay pin now lives with Cinna's outfit, but there's the gold locket and the silver parachute with the spile and Peeta's pearl. I knot the pearl into the corner of the parachute, bury it deep in the recesses of the bag, as if it's Peeta's life and no one can take it away as long as I guard it.
It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.
Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.
Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.
What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in.
And then there was Tick. Brave little Tick, who had flown into the faces of an army of rats to save his baby sister. Tick - who never spoke much. Tick - who shared her food. Tick - who was after all just a roach. Just a roach who had given all the time she had left so that Boots could have more. Gregor pressed Boots's fingers against his lips and felt scalding tears begin to slide down his cheeks. He hadn't cried, not the whole time he'd been down here, and there had been plenty of bad stuff. But somehow Tick's sacrifice had crushed whatever thin shell remained between him and sorrow.
In one horrible moment the last piece of the prophecy became clear. So bid him take care, bid him look where he leaps, As life may be death and death life again reaps. He had to leap, and by his death, the others would live. That was it. That was what Sandwich had been trying to say all along, and by now he believed in Sandwich. He put on a final burst of speed, just like the coach taught him in track. He gave everything he had. In the last few steps before the canyon he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg, and then the ground gave way under his feet. Gregor the Overlander leaped.
The only indication of the passage of time lies in the heavens, the subtle shift of the moon. So Peeta begins pointing it out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes, for just a moment I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of the night engulfs me again.
Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says. “Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.
Yes, everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow’s dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I’m still defying the Capitol right up to the end, the Capitol will have killed me…but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels?
Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words aren’t for me. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.
Johanna glances over at Finnick, to be sure, then turns to me. “How’d you lose Mags?” “In the fog. Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn’t lift her. Finnick said he couldn’t take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison,” I say. “She was Finnick’s mentor, you know,” Johanna says accusingly. “No, I didn’t,” I say. “She was half his family,” she says a few moments later, but there’s less venom behind it.
Tick, tock,” whispers Wiress. I guide her in front of me and get her to lie down, stroking her arm to soothe her. She drifts off, stirring restlessly, occasionally sighing out her phrase. “Tick, tock.” “Tick, tock,” I agree softly. “It’s time for bed. Tick, tock. Go to sleep.
And she’s very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her
The most exciting thing either of us does is nap.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: