You know, you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him.

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.

Stupid people are dangerous.

I don't want to lose the boy with the bread.

My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.

What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.

I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, 'So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?' I turn into him. 'Put you somewhere you can't get hurt.

Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!

You’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.

So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.

You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?

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.

I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying.

May the odds be ever in your favor!

I always channel my emotions into my work. That way, I don't hurt anyone but myself.

I must have loved you a lot.

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.

Some walks you have to take alone.

It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.

District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.

There are much worse games to play.

I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dialate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.

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.

Katniss, the girl who was on fire!

Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

Yes, and I’m sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.

Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here. No stranger would let it be if we met up At midnight in the hanging tree.

At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead.The hard thing is finding the courage to do it.

We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," says Plutarch. "While you live, the revolution lives.

Here's some advice. Stay alive.

Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, “Music.

Technically, I am unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails can do. Especially if the target is unprepared.

I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.

I think....you still have no idea. The effect you can have.

Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.

I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite.

Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable.

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.

For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.

Closing my eyes doesn't help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness.

Aim higher in case you fall short.

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.

Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

We could do it, you know." "What?" "Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.

You have a... remarkable memory." "I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!

I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it...