Having An Eye For Beauty Isn't The

Tomorrow's A Hunting Day," I Say. "i Won't Be Much Of A Help With That," Peeta Says. "i've Never Hunted Before." "i'll Kill And You Cook," I Say. "and You Can Always Gather." "i Wish There Was Some Sort Of Bread Bush Out There," Says Peeta.

Panem Et Circenses" Translates Into 'bread And Circuses.' The Writer Was Saying That In Return For Full Bellies And Entertainment, His People Had Given Up Their Political Responsibilities And Therefore Their Power.

The Realization That I’d Have Nothing To Take Home Had Finally Sunk In. My Knees Buckled And I Slid Down The Tree Trunk To Its Roots. It Was Too Much. I Was Too Sick And Weak And Tired, Oh, So Tired. Let Them Call The Peacekeepers And Take Us To The Community Home, I Thought. Or Better Yet, Let Me Die Right Here In The Rain.

I Am Not Pretty. I Am Not Beautiful. I Am As Radiant As The Sun.

But I Don't Know What To Him About The Aftermath Of Killing A Person. About How They Never Leave You.