Entrails. No Hissing. This Is The Closest

I Thought He Wanted It, Anyway," I Say. "not Like This," Haymitch Says. "he Wanted It To Be Real.

Well, I Don't Have Much Competition Here." "you Don't Have Much Competition Anywhere.

Then Octavia Drops To Her Knees, Rubs The Hem Of A Skirt Against Her Cheek, And Burst Into Tears. "it's Been So Long," She Gasps, "since I've Seen Anything Pretty.

As Coal Pressured Into Pearls By Our Weighty Existence. Beauty That Arose Out Of Pain.

Frankly, Our Ancestors Don't Seem Much To Brag About. I Mean, Look At The State They Left Us In, With The Wars, The Broken Planet. Clearly, They Didn't Care About What Would Happen To The People Who Came After Them.