Max

“When Lenore Dove comes to me now, she’s not angry or dying, so I think she’s forgiven me. She’s grown older with me, her face etched with fine lines, her hair touched with gray. Like she’s been living her life beside me as the years passed, instead of lying in her grave. Still so rare and radiant. I fulfilled my promise about the reaping, or at least lent a hand, but she says I can’t come to her yet. I have to look after my family.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“That’s when I see Lenore Dove. She’s up on a ridge, her red dress plastered to her body, one hand clutching the bag of gumdrops. As the train passes, she tilts her head back and wails her loss and rage into the wind. And even though it guts me, even though I smash my fists into the glass until they bruise, I’m grateful for her final gift. That she’s denied Plutarch the chance to broadcast our farewell. The moment our hearts shattered? It belongs to us.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping

“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

“but the walls of a person’s heart are not impregnable, not if they have ever known love.”
― Suzanne Collins, Sunrise on the Reaping