Suzanne Collins
Suzanne Collins
Suzanne Marie Collinsis an American television writer and novelist, best known as the author of The New York Times best selling series The Underland Chronicles and The Hunger Games trilogy...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth11 August 1962
CountryUnited States of America
being-in-love stuff supposed-to-be
We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.
home winning thinking
So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?” says Caesar encouragingly. “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case,” says Peeta. “Why ever not?” says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. “Because…because…she came here with me.
father plants-growing voice
I noticed the plants growing around me. Tall with leaves like arrowheads. Blossoms with three white petals. I knelt down in the water, my fingers digging into the soft mud, and I pulled up handfuls of the roots. Small, bluish tubers that don’t look like much but boiled or baked are as good as any potato. “Katniss,” I said aloud. It’s the plant I was named for. And I heard my father’s voice joking, “As long as you can find yourself, you’ll never starve.
safe shots yeah
How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?” “Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot,” I say.
mother father sleep
In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I'm struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.
hunger
Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.
letting-go looks fingers
I look down at our linked fingers as I loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” he says.
want happens
maybe it's that we are all so starved for something good to happen that we want to be a part of it.
hurt kids home
And it’s all my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people – you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it.
book might humans
I guess there isn’t a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.
thinking gale tick
Making knots. Making knots. No word. Making knots. Tick-tock. This is a clock. Do not think of Gale. Do not think of Peeta. Making knots.
wonder breathe choke
It’s not wondering what I breathe in, but who, that threatens to choke me.
stay-with-me peeta mockingjay
Stay with me. Always.
moving light hands
I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light. Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..." His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!