Katniss. I remember about the bread.
Katniss....he's still trying to keep you alive.
But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve."
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.
As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.
Because...because...she came here with me.
You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.
It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.
There are much worse games to play.
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.
Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!
Katniss, the girl who was on fire!
You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.
Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.
My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.
You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers. "Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me.
Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.
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 side step that?
Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there’s nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.
Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.
I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire.
What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?
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