Lenore Dove Quotes

“I know one thing, though: The Capitol can never take Lenore Dove from me again. They never really did in the first place. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping, and she is the most precious thing I’ve ever known.
When I tell her that, she always says, “I love you like all-fire.”
And I reply, “I love you like all-fire, too.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“They hang the man and flog the woman
Who steals the goose from off the common,
Yet let the greater villain loose
That steals the common from the goose.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“This room is Lenore Dove's dream come true. A world of words to wrap herself up in. Each book's as precious as a person, she says, as it preserves someone's thoughts and feelings long after they're gone.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“Where am I, Lenore Dove? Where are you, my only love?”
― SUZANNE COLLINS, Sunrise on the Reaping

“It'd be like we did it together. Painted a poster that no one could ignore.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“A dead mockingjay chick, eyes still bright, feathers blue-black in the sunlight, clawed feet empty, on a bed of moss. Lenore Dove stroked its plumage with her fingertip. "Poor baby . . . poor little bird . . . who will sing your songs now?”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“I run my finger over the fine metalwork of the feathered neck. "I wouldn't want to ruin it."
"You won't. That's what it's made for." She touches the snake's head, then the bird's, in turn. "It takes a lot to break these two. They're survivors.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“But how will she ever know that was only a teaspoon of trouble in my river of wrong?”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“Sometimes she cries because things are so beautiful and we keep messing them up. Because the world doesn't have to be so terrifying. That's on people, not the world.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“I love you like all-fire”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“No one depends on Lenore Dove for their livelihood. She can run as wild as the wind.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“If something attacked me right now, I’d let it take me. I know, I know, I just made a deathbed promise to Maysilee to carry on the fight, but I can’t seem to rally. I pat her necklace against my pants to wipe off the blood — these black clothes just never stop giving — and hook the fancy clasp behind my neck to hang there with its friends. I’ve got my own jewelry collection now, what with District 9’s sunflower, Wyatt’s scrip coin, and Lenore Dove’s warring songbird and snake. Why, I’m almost as decorated as Miss Donner herself.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“That’s when I hear Maysilee begin to scream. In a flash, I’m on my feet and thrashing through the smoky tunnel in the hedge. I spy bright patches of pink up ahead, hear honking, not unlike Lenore Dove’s geese. My ax is out of my belt, drawn and ready as I leave the holly bushes for a whirlwind of feathers.
The two dozen waterbirds remind me of ones I’ve seen at the lake. Long-legged. Beaks like sword blades — thin, narrow, and deadly. Not cool blue gray, not paper white, but the color of the bubblegum sold at the Donners’ sweetshop. They dive again and again at Maysilee, who’s kneeling on the ground, trying to use a tarp as protection while she vehemently slices at them with her dagger. A couple of dead birds lie on the ground, but they have taken their toll. Blood blossoms from her cheek, her chest, the palm of her hand. Like Ampert’s squirrels, they have no interest in me. Programmed to target Maysilee in a very personal punishment. I hack away at the mutts with my ax, piling up a collection of rosy wings and legs like cattail stems, but they badly outnumber us.
A bird swoops down at a sharp angle, driving its beak through her throat. As it withdraws, I decapitate it, slicing through the skinny neck. I realize Maysilee’s beyond recovery when the flock clears out. Falling to my knees beside her, I reach for her sound hand, which grasps mine like a vise. Her wounded one curls up and rests in her nest of necklaces, which lays in a pool of blood. Through the rasping of her breath, she attempts to speak, but the last mutt silenced her voice with its wicked beak. Mine seems silenced as well, as no words of comfort or hope or apology make it out. I just stare into those burning blue eyes, letting her know she’s not dying alone. She’s with family. She’s with me.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“We will be together always,' I say with conviction. 'I don't know how, and I don't know where, I don't know anything, but I feel that in my heart. You and me, we will find each other, as many times as it takes.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“Like in one of your songs, my ghost will hunt down your ghost and never give it a moment’s rest.”
“Promise?” She sounds a little more hopeful. “Because if I could count on that, I think I could bear it. But what I can’t bear is . . . what if we’re never together again?”
“We will be together always,” I say with conviction. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know where, I don’t know anything, but I feel that in my heart. You and me, we will find each other, as many times as it takes.”
“You think?”
“I do. But not if you do something stupid like getting yourself killed on purpose. I feel like that could throw the whole thing out of whack. You stay alive, play your songs, love your people, live the best life you can. And I’ll be there in the Meadow waiting for you. It’s a promise. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll try. That’s my promise back.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping