Let The Hunger Games Begin!

Smiling Is Mostly About Smiling More.

Peeta Bakes. I Hunt. Haymitch Drinks Until The Liquor Runs Out.

My Voice, At First Rough And Breaking On The High Notes, Warms Up Into Something Splendid. A Voice That Would Make The Mockingjays Fall Silent And Then Tumble Over Themselves To Join In.

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

My Death Could, In Fact, Save Him. If It Can't, No Matter. It's Enough To Die Of Spite. To Punish Haymitch, Who, Of All The People In This Rotting World, Has Turned Peeta And Me Into Pieces In His Games. I Trusted Him. I Put What Was Precious In Haymitch's Hands. And He Has Betrayed Me.