Quotes About Emotion

So well intended, and yet so insulting

I'm also giggling, which I think I've done maybe never in my lifetime.

Te'n recordes? —em diu—. Aquí és on em vas fer aquell petó. […] — Em pensava que no te'n recordaves —dic. — Hauria d'estar mort per oblidar-ho. I potser ni així —em diu—.

Així doncs, quan després em xiuxiueja: — M'estimes. Real o no real? Jo li dic: — Real.

Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him — I'm not even sure about what

Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn't recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It's the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. "You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers. "Real," I answer.

as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

And did you love me?

Seni ya öldürmek ya da öpmek isteyecekler.

What am I going to tell them about Twelve?" I ask Gale. "I doubt they'll ask for details. They saw it burn. They'll mostly be worried about how you're handling it." Gale touches my cheek. "Like I am.

Then Octavia drops to her knees, rubs the hem of a skirt against her cheek, and bursts into tears. "It's been so long," she gasps, "since I've seen anything pretty.

I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth.

love you." That's why.

I dropped my gaze, embarrassed, and that's when I saw it. The first dandelion of the year.

I didn't want to!" Peeta flushes in agitation.

I didn't expect that." "I told you he hated me," I say.

I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

I'm not too upset to answer that.

Se supone que estás enamorada, preciosa, y el chico se está muriendo. ¡Dame algo con lo que pueda trabajar!».

No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew — just like your mother — I was a goner,

You love me. Real or not real? Real.

You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive. And a traitor. But at the moment, I don't care. Not what he says, or who he says it for, only that he is still capable of speech.

That's how I feel now, trying to remember how to breathe, unable to speak, totally stunned as the name bounces around the inside of my skull.

So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.