Hey. I Just Wanted To Make Sure

My Death Could, In Fact, Save Him. If It Can't, No Matter. It's Enough To Die Of Spite. To Punish Haymitch, Who, Of All The People In This Rotting World, Has Turned Peeta And Me Into Pieces In His Games. I Trusted Him. I Put What Was Precious In Haymitch's Hands. And He Has Betrayed Me.

How Could I Leave Prim, Who Is The Only Person In The World I’m Certain I Love?

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.

Scores Only Matter If They’re Very Good, No One Pays Much Attention To The Bad Or Mediocre Ones.

Hey, Look At This!" He Holds Up A Glistening, Perfect Pearl About The Size Of A Pea. "you Know, If You Put Enough Pressure On Coal It Turns To Pearls," He Says Earnestly To Finnick. "no, It Doesn't," Says Finnick Dismissively. But I Crack Up, Remembering That's How A Clueless Effie Trinket Presented Us To The People Of The Capitol Last Year, Before Anyone Knew Us. As Coal Pressured Into Pearls By Our Weighty Existence. Beauty That Arose Out Of Pain.