A Quote by Suzanne Collins
What about Gale?" "He's not a bad kisser either," I say shortly. "And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?" He asks. "No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission," I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. "Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?
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I can't help comparing what I have with Gale to what I'm pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale's motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter's. It's not a fair comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other's survival means our own death. How do you sidestep that?
Finally, Peeta turns to Pollux. "Well, then you just became our most valuable asset." Castor laughs and Pollux manages a smile. We're halfway down the first tunnel when I realize what was so remarkable about that exchange. Peeta sounded like his old self, the one who could always think of the right thing to say when nobody else could... I glance back at him as he trudges along under his guards, Gale and Jackson, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched forward. So dispirited. But for a moment, he was really here.
It's okay for you to have relationships, but it's not okay to talk about them. It's not okay to be out or to be public about it. It's not okay to be photographed with your partner.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is, “It’s okay.” It’s okay for me to be kind to myself. It’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to get mad. It’s ok to be flawed. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to move on.
Are you okay?" I (Cassie) call up to him. "Um. Define okay." (Ben) "Okay means you're not bleeding to death." "I'm okay.
It's okay that your parents aren't perfect; no one's are. And it's okay that they didn't have any perfect children either; no one's are. You see, our whole purpose is to strive together in righteousness, overcoming our weaknesses day by day. Don't ever give up on each other.
Okay. Then...I can talk. Ask me something." "Okay." He laughs shakily in my ear. "Why is your heart racing Tris?" I cringe and say, "Well, I...I barely know you. I barely know you and I'm crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think?"... "Maybe you were cut out for Candor," he says, "because you're a terrible liar.
And if one day,' she said, really crying now, 'you look back and you feel bad for being so angry, if you feel bad for being so angry at me that you couldn't even speak to me, then you have to know, Conor, you have to that is was okay. It was okay. That I knew. I know, okay? I know everything you need to tell me without you having to say it out loud.
Im okay Im okay now. But you really need to listen to me 'cause im telling you the truth I mean this im okay Trust me... Im not okay ...Well okay im not okay. Im not o-f cking-kay
I don't want people to say, 'So, what do you think about that Cher?' and for them to reply, 'She's okay.' Okay is not good enough. I want them to either love me or to completely despise me - I mean, call me all the names under the sun. I love it.
Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he's there, holding me and patting my back. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart." He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob.
No. It's actually not okay. And I hate when people say that, when they say it's okay even though it's not. It's better to tell the truth.
One of the biggest things growing up that my dad taught me is that if I was okay to talk about my feelings and express how I felt and not get angry, then he would listen to me. If I had issues, I would just tell him, 'Here's how I feel, this is what I'm feeling,' either with him or with my mom.
The script is like music to me. I approach it like it's a musical piece and I hear how it's supposed to sound when people say the words. There's rhythms and there's intonations and things, and so, when somebody comes in and hits the notes that I hear, I go okay. Or, they come close enough, and then I'll say "Well how about you try it like this?" and if they have a good ear and they can pick it up, then I think okay, they've got it.
We're all in this together. It's okay to be honest. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to say you're stuck, or that you're haunted or that you can't begin to let go. We can all relate to those things. Screw the stigma that says otherwise. Break the silence and break the cycle, for you are more than just your pain. You are not alone. And people need other people.
Oh, I know. They’re dwarfs pretending to be elves. No, they’re not dwarfs either. Okay, okay, they’re “little people,” I’m sorry! Can’t believe I have to be politically correct when you’re the only one who can hear me.
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