I Try To Forgive Her For My

Just The Perfect Touch Of Rebellion," Says Haymitch "very Nice." Rebellion?

No Wonder I Won The Games. No Decent Person Ever Does.

I Take His Hand, Holding On Tightly, Preparing For The Cameras, And Dreading The Moment When I Will Finally Have To Let Go.

The Heat Of The Bread Burned Into My Skin, But I Clutched It Tighter, Clinging To Life.

Even If Times Got Bad, He Would Never Again Deny Himself The Possibility That The Future Might Be Happy Even If The Present Was Painful. He Would Allow Himself Dreams.