I’m in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves.

What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.

District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.

The star-crossed lovers

Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous.

My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.

So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.

It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now and live in it forever.

To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.

Abroad, they have covered pretty much all subjects, explored every possibility, every twist. So similarities between ideas you have and those filmed abroad are quite possible.

I have deep respect for people's individual faith, but when faith gets connected to the machinery of state, or the machinery of hate, I find it very confronting.

I kept thinking how marvellous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.

Simple, clear purpose and principles give rise to complex intelligent behavior. Complex rules and regulations give rise to simple stupid behavior.

Funerals...are for the living.

Oh, there was harm indeed for a young lady flattered by the brief attentions of a handsome man.

When you love something, you'll always come back to it. You'll always keep asking questions, and finding answers.

Rose, oh pure contradiction, joy of being No-one's sleep under so many lids.

Translation is entirely mysterious. Increasingly I have felt that the art of writing is itself translating, or more like translating than it is like anything else

He never went out without a book under his arm, and he often came back with two.