Quotes About Emotion

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

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.

Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first.

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

But I don't know what to him about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never leave you.

Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of make my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

It's funny, because even though they're rattling on about the Games, it's all about where they were or what they were doing or how they felt when a specific event occurred. . . . Everything is about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena

Maybe I'll be like the man in the Hanging Tree still waiting for an answer.' Gale who I have never seen cry has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over. I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes and misery.

It's strange to be so physically close to someone who's so distant

Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

Katniss?" Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words. "How about that kiss?

It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his word. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love.

The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

Please feel free to take this personally.

I don't want to cry. Everyone will make note of my tears and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction.

Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain.

My lips are just forming his name when his fingers lock around my throat.

If I'm going to cry, now is the time. By morning, I'll be able to wash all the damage done by the tears from my face. But no tears come. I'm too tired or too numb to cry. The only thing I feel is a desire to be somewhere else. So I let the train rock me into oblivion.

I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

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.

Just last year i wanted to kill him, but now it is my duty to save him.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.