Making Knots. Making Knots. No Word. Making

I Can Hear President Snow's Voice In My Head. 'on The Seventy-fifth Anniversary, As A Reminder To The Rebels That Even The Strongest Among Them Cannot Overcome The Power Of The Capital, The Male And Female Tributes Will Be Reaped From Their Existing Pool Of Victors.

Don't. Don't Let's Pretend When There's No One Around.

What Must It Be Like, I Wonder, To Live In A World Where Food Appears At The Press Of A Button? How Would I Spend The Hours I Now Commit To Combing The Woods For Sustenance If It Were So Easy To Come By? What Do They Do All Day, These People In The Capitol, Besides Decorating Their Bodies And Waiting Around For A New Shipment Of Tributes To Rill In And Die For Their Entertainment?

Yeah, About That,” Says Peeta, Entwining His Fingers In Mine. “don’t Try Something Like That Again.” “or What?” I Ask. “or . . . Or . . .” He Can’t Think Of Anything Good. “just Give Me A Minute.

I Think We Put Our Children At An Enormous Disadvantage By Not Educating Them In War, By Not Letting Them Understand About It At An Early Age.