I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle me as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you like it.

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.

If I choose to take the time and make you breakfast in bed, a simple thank you is all we need -- not all of this 'Why are you in my house?' nonsense.

I will say only this - when le prête is in the right mood, he can make even the devil afraid to turn his back

Of all the things which wisdom provides to make life entirely happy much the greatest is the possession of friendship.

To be busy is man's only happiness.

If you are a Christian, you are free to think that all these religions, even the queerest ones, contain at least some hint of the truth.

For some, the past is a chain, each day a link, raveling backward to one ringbolt or another, in one dark place or another, and tomorrow is a slave to yesterday.

To me, a book is a book, an electronic device is not, and love of books was the reason I started writing.

My little Renoirs. Matisse describes having seen Renoir make these tiny canvases. When he had finished working, he would use up the color left in his brushes on them.

The solution is not to reinvent ourselves, not to ape the Labour Party or the Liberal Democrats.

What if every seemingly isolated object was actually just where the continuous wave of that object poked through into our world?