Katniss. I remember about the bread.

But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.

I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I am in pain," He say's. "That's the only way I get your attention.

So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.

There's a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don't give up on him.

The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it.

Oh, Peeta, Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.

Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.

No. Now, shut up and eat your pears.

It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.

The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them. Since I'm the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying.

Well, I don't have much competition here." "You don't have much competition anywhere.

Look, if you wanted to be babied you should have asked Peeta.

That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I'm free to act as desperately as I wish.

I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it's so bizarre, even for Finnick.

I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you.

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........

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place where I love you.

I turn and put my lips close to Peeta's and drop my eyelids in imitation... "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," I say in my best seductive voice.

I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I've been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be.

Remember, girl on fire,” he says, “I'm still betting on you.

Only I keep wishing I could think of a way...to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games.

Katniss....he's still trying to keep you alive.

It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-

Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had an agreement not to lie to each other.

Want a sugar cube?" he asks in his old seductive voice.

He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice...In exchange, he trusted me with his.

All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner,' Peeta says.

I can only form one clear thought. This is no place for a girl on fire.

I'm more than just a piece in their Games.

Stay with me. Always.

Oh, that I do know...Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without.

Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.

Real or not real?

She has no idea. The effect she can have.

Whose is it, do you think?" I say finally. "No telling," says Finnick. "Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?

Delly lost her temper at Peeta over how he treated you. She got very squeaky. It was like someone stabbing a mouse with a fork repeatedly.

I have kept track of the boy with the bread.

If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.

Let me live, love, and say it well in good sentences

Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.