The Hunger Games Trilogy

by Suzanne Collins

I push the whole thing out of my mind because for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well together in my thoughts.

Katniss's lack of emotional intelligence is astounding.

There’s a little girl, one of Greasy Sae’s grandkids, who wanders around the Hob. She’s not quite right, but she’s treated as a sort of pet. People toss her scraps and things.

I don't think I like the ableism here...

It’s the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us.

Rue’s death has forced me to confront my own fury against the cruelty, the injustice they inflict upon us.

“Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.” And for the first time, I understand what he means.

Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I.

I usually clear out of the house whenever she’s treating anything worse than a cold. Come to think of it, I don’t even much like to be around coughing.

RIP Katniss Everdeen. She would have hated the pandemic.

Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing her for something she couldn’t help, specifically the crushing depression she fell into after my father’s death. Because sometimes things happen to people and they’re not equipped to deal with them.

I’m thinking about Plutarch showing off his pretty, one-of-a-kind watch to me. There was something strange about it. Almost clandestine. But why? Maybe

Katniss. My girl. You Aren't very clevef are you

My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

They are not used to want, so any little disruption in supply makes an impact on them. By

The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them.

And I love it. Getting to be myself at last.

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,”

I go back to imagining killing the president.

Those over fourteen have been given entry-level ranks in the military and are addressed respectfully as “Soldier.”

Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.

The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning.

The boy . . . he’s not even of age.”

It takes her a minute to place the three, given their current condition, but already she wears a look of consternation. And I know it’s not a result of seeing abused bodies, because they were her daily fare in District 12, but the realization that this sort of thing goes on in 13 as well.

“Perhaps we’re a little more necessary to the war effort than you give us credit for,” says Plutarch, unconcerned. “Of course you are. The tributes were necessary to the Games, too. Until they weren’t,” I say. “And then we were very disposable — right, Plutarch?”

I find the whole thing bizarre because I can’t imagine anyone raised in District 13 being a threat the government would have to guard against. Have these precautions been put in place because of the recent influx of immigrants?

Frankly, our ancestors don’t seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet. Clearly, they didn’t care about what would happen to the people who came after them.

I have a kind of power I never knew I possessed.

I feel fine, really. Except for my head, and my leg, and the soreness from the

bruises, and the nausea that hit a couple minutes after I ate.

She's just like me for real

Do we have to record it for everyone to see?

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

Caught in the cross fire are the refugees, unarmed, disoriented, many wounded.

presidents — even the most despicable — get special treatment.

Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences. You can spin it any way you like. Snow thought the Hunger Games were an efficient means of control. Coin thought the parachutes would expedite the war. But in the end, who does it benefit? No one. The truth is, it benefits no one to live in a world where these things happen.