Quotes & Sayings About Katniss In Catching Fire

Katniss, got that spile? Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality. — Suzanne Collins

I'm so tired, Katniss. — Suzanne Collins

A leather bag filled with food and a flask of hot tea. — Suzanne Collins

Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" I say.
"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror," he says.
"You should wake me," I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down.
"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," he says. "I'm okay once I realize you're here. — Suzanne Collins

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why. — Suzanne Collins

Technically, I am unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails can do. Especially if the target is unprepared. — Suzanne Collins

The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol's rules. My private agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save Peeta ... in terms of a revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. But Peeta would be more valuable alive, and tragic, because he will be able to turn his pain into words that will transform people. — Suzanne Collins

I don't like self-righteous people," I say.
"What's to like?" says Haymitch, who begins sucking the dregs out of the empty bottles. — Suzanne Collins

I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women and children. There will be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fury. "I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatically, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. "This is what they do and we must fight back!"
"President Snow says he's sending a message. Well I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" One of the cameras follows where I point to the planes burning on the roof of a warehouse across from us. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, determined he will not miss a word of it, "And if we burn, you burn with us! — Suzanne Collins

Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," I say. "Katniss, I live three houses away from you," he says. — Suzanne Collins

I did not get my Spaghetti-O's, I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this. — Thomas J. Grasso

Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem, he says. — Suzanne Collins

I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor. — Suzanne Collins

Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.
"You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know," Haymitch says. — Suzanne Collins

But it's not safe and I can feel him slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. "Stay with me."
As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back but I don't catch it. — Suzanne Collins

I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. — Suzanne Collins

But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim. — Suzanne Collins

Really, the combination of the scabs and the ointment looks hideous. I can't help enjoying his distress.
"Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven't looked pretty?" I say.
"It must be. The sensation's completely new. How have you managed it all these years?" he asks.
"Just avoid mirrors. You'll forget about it," I say.
"Not if I keep looking at you," he says. — Suzanne Collins

I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say.
"Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real. — Suzanne Collins

That's when I hear the scream. So full of fear and pain it ices my blood. And so familiar. I drop the spile, forget where I am or what lies ahead, only know I must reach her, protect her. I run wildly in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching her.
From reaching my little sister. — Suzanne Collins

Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem. — Suzanne Collins

When I make a pretty good hook ( ... ) she gives me a toothless smile and an unintelligeble comment I think might be praise. — Suzanne Collins

The odds are never in our favour. — Suzanne Collins

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of other stylists have tried to steal Cinna and Portia's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from Distric 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? Pathetic. — Suzanne Collins