I Go Back To My Room And

The Hatred I Feel For Him, For The Phantom Girl, For Everything, Is So Real And Immediate It Chokes Me. Gale Is Mine. I Am His. Anything Else Is Unthinkable. Why Did It Take Him Being Whipped Within An Inch Of His Life To See It?

Deep In The Meadow, Hidden Far Away, A Cloak Of Leaves, A Moonbeam Ray, Forget Your Woes And Let Your Troubles Lay, And When Again It's Morning, They'll Wash Away. Here It's Safe, Here It's Warm, Here The Daisies Guard You From Every Harm, Here Your Dreams Are Sweet And Tomorrow Brings Them True, Here Is The Place Where I Love You.

I'll Tell Them How I Survive It. I'll Tell Them That On Bad Mornings, It Feels Impossible To Take Pleasure In Anything Because I'm Afraid It Could Be Taken Away. That's When I Make A List In My Head Of Every Act Of Goodness I've Seen Someone Do. It's Like A Game. Repetitive. Even A Little Tedious After More Than Twenty Years. But There Are Much Worse Games To Play.

Just Because People Starve In A Book, Doesn't Mean That We Will Starve In The Future.

Even Though I Don't Ask, Plutarch Gives Me Cheerful Updates On The Phone Like "good News, Katniss! I Think We've Almost Got Him Convinced You're Not A Mutt!" Or "today He Was Allowed To Feed Himself Pudding!