I Had To Do That. At Least

Her Name's Prim. She's Just Twelve. And I Love Her More Than Anything.

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.

I Don't Know How To Make People Like Me. Cinna, How Do You Make People Like You?

The Morphlings From District 6 Are In The Camouflage Station, Painting Each Other's Faces With Bright Pink Swirls.

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.