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Katniss Quotes

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Katniss Quotes

“At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite colour . . . it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.”

“Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as the trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, checks his pules. I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke up, but he sees it now. His features registrer disbelief and something more intense that I can't quite place. Desire? Desperation? Surely both, for he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feets and moves towards me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands are reaching for mine too, to caress my face, I think. My lips are forming his name when his fingers lock around my throat.”

“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.”

“I hear Peeta's voice in my head. She has no idea. The effect she can have. Obviously meant to demean me. Right? But a tiny part of me wonders if this was a compliment. That he meant I was appealing in some way. It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting. And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. The flour. The wrestling. I have kept track of the boy with the bread.”

“I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end. Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.”

“Vorrei poter fermare il tempo e vivere così per sempre" Di solito questi riferimenti al suo imperituro amore nei miei confronti mi fanno sentire in colpa e a disagio. Ma mi sento così tranquilla e rilassata e al di là di qualsiasi preoccupazione per un futuro che comunque non avrò che mi lascio sfuggire due semplici parole: "Va bene" Sento il sorriso nella sua voce. "Allora sei d'accordo?" "Sono d'accordo" dico io.”

“What she seems to fear most is not that Rue will be killed by some other tribute, but rather that she and Rue will face each other as the last two survivors in the Games, forcing Katniss to sacrifice her erstwhile ally for the sake of a promise to her sister. As horrible as it sounds, Rue’s death at the hands of Marvel was good moral luck for Katniss.”

“Gale didn't say, "Katniss will pick whoever it will break her heart to give up," or even "whoever she can't live without." Those would have implied I was motivated by a kind of passion. But my best friend predicts I will choose the person "I can't survive without." There's not the least indication that love, desire, or even compatibility will sway me. I'll just conduct an unfeeling assessment of what my potential mates can offer me. As if in the end, it will be the question of whether a baker or a hunter will extend my longevity the most. It's a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken or exploited by the Capitol or the rebels. At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.”

“When I finally begin to surface into the sterile hospital room in 13, I remember. I was under the influence of sleep syrup. My heel had been injured after I'd climbed out on a branch over the electric fence and dropped back into 12. Peeta had put me to bed and I had asked him to stay with me as I was drifting off. He had whispered something I couldn't quite catch. But some part of my brain had trapped his single word of reply and let it swim up through my dreams to taunt me now. "Always.”

“Y de repente es cómo si no existiera nadie más en el mundo que estas dos personas que atraviesan el espacio para encontrarse. Chocan, se abrazan, pierden el equilibrio, se dan contra una pared y allí se quedan, convertidos en un solo ser indivisible. Noto una punzada de celos, no por Finnick ni por Annie, sino por su certeza. Viéndolos, nadie dudaría de su amor.”

“My love for these books, at its purest, is not really about Peeta or anything silly and girly. I love that a young woman character is fierce and strong but hum in ways I find believable, relatable. Katniss is clearly a heroine, but a heroine with issues. She intrigues me because she never seems to know her own strength. She isn't blandly insecure the way girls are often forced to be in fiction. She is brave but flawed. She is a heroine, but she is also a girl who loves two boys and can't choose which boy she loves more. She is not sure she is up to the task of leading a revolution, but she does her best, even as she doubts herself. Katniss endures the unendurable. She is damaged and it shows. At times, it might seem like her suffering is gratuitous, but life often presents unendurable circumstances people manage to survive. Only the details differ. The Hunger Games trilogy is dark and brutal, but in the end, the books also offer hope - for a better world and a better people and, for one woman, a better life, a life she can share with a man who understands her strength and doesn't expect her to compromise that strength, a man who can hold her weak places and love her through the darkest of her memories, the worst of her damage. Of course I love the Hunger Games. The trilogy offers the tempered hope that everyone who survives something unendurable hungers for.”

“Me pilló completamente por sorpresa. Después de todo el tiempo que había pasado con Gale, de observar cómo hablaba, se reía, fruncía el ceño, cabría esperar que supiese todo lo que había que saber de sus labios. Sin embargo, no me había imaginado el calor que desprendían al unirse a los míos. Ni que aquellas manos, las manos que podían montar la más intrincada de las trampas también pudiera atraparme a mí con la misma facilidad.”

“Двамата с Пийта се сближаваме. Все още има моменти, когато той стиска здраво облегалката на някой стол и не я пуска, докато бързо мяркащите се спомени приключат. Аз се будя с писъци от кошмари за мутове и загинали деца. Но ръцете му са там, за да ме утешат. А накрая — и устните му. В нощта, когато изпитвам отново онова усещане — гладът, който ме завладя на брега, — разбирам, че това така или иначе щеше да се случи. Че за да оцелея, ми е нужен не огънят на Гейл, разпален с ярост и омраза. Самата аз имам огън в изобилие. Нужно ми е глухарчето през пролетта. Яркожълтият цвят, който означава възраждане, а не унищожение. Обещанието, че животът може да продължи, независимо колко тежки са нашите загуби. Че може отново да бъде хубаво. И само Пийта може да ми даде това.”

“Ще им кажа как оцелявам. Ще им кажа, че в лошите сутрини ми се струва невъзможно да се насладя на каквото и да било, защото се страхувам, че може да ми бъде отнето. Именно тогава съставям мислено списък на всяко добро дело, което съм видяла някой да извършва. Това е като игра. Все едно и също. Дори малко досадно след повече от двайсет години. Но има и много по-страшни игри.”

“Оказва се, че въпросът, който ме разяжда от толкова време, винаги е имал само един възможен отговор. Но ми беше нужна безумната постъпка на Пийта, за да се сетя какъв е. Какво ще направя аз? Поемам си дълбоко въздух. Повдигам леко ръце — сякаш си спомням черно-белите криле, които ми подари Цина — а после ги отпускам край тялото си. — Аз ще бъда Сойката-присмехулка.”

“Приближавам се към камерата, обзета от ярост: — Президентът Сноу казва, че ни изпраща послание? Е, и аз имам едно за него: можете да ни измъчвате и да ни бомбардирате, и да сринете нашите окръзи до основи, но виждате ли това? — Една от камерите ни следва, докато соча към ховъркрафтите, които горят на покрива на склада отсреща. Гербът на Капитола върху едно крило проблясва ясно през пламъците. — Огънят се разпростира! — Сега крещя, защото искам той да чуе всяка дума. — И ако изгорим, и вие ще изгорите с нас! Последните ми думи увисват във въздуха. Имам чувството, че времето е спряло, а аз се издигам в облак от горещина, излъчвана не от пожара, а дълбоко вътре от мен.”

“Първо зървам русата плитка, която се спуска по гърба й. После, когато смъква палтото си, за да покрие едно стенещо дете, забелязвам патешката опашка, образувана от неприбраната й блуза. Реагирам по същия начин, както в деня, когато Ефи Тринкет изтегли името й по време на Жътвата. Изглежда съм се пуснала, защото осъзнавам, че съм в основата на пилона и не си спомням станалото през последните няколко секунди. После разбутвам тълпата, точно както направих предишния път. Опитвам се да изкрещя името й достатъчно силно, за да надвикам глъчката. Вече съм почти там, почти до барикадата, когато тя сякаш ме чува. Защото само за миг тя ме зърва, устните й оформят името ми. И точно тогава избухват и другите парашути.”