A Quote by Suzanne Collins

I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite. — © Suzanne Collins
I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite.
What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don't know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I'm sure he doesn't remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite.
I love kissing. If I could kiss all day, I would. I can’t stop thinking about kissing. I like kissing more than sex because there’s no end to it. You can kiss forever. You can kiss yourself into oblivion. You can kiss all over the body. You can kiss yourself to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t stop thinking about kissing. Dammit, I can’t get anything done because I’m so busy thinking about kissing. Kissing is madness! But it’s absolute paradise, if you can find a good kisser.
I think, initially, my rebellion, my rebellion of going to college when my dad would have liked me to stay home and work in the herbs, I think that it was a pretty mild rebellion in the sense that I thought, 'Well, I'm going to go learn how to be a music teacher so that I can come home and do choir.'
The learning process is something you can incite, literally incite, like a riot.
There is something that Governments care for far more than human life, and that is the security of property, and so it is through property that we shall strike the enemy. Be militant each in your own way. I incite this meeting to rebellion.
There's a lot of things that I think you got to deal with. Hillary Clinton had to put down a rebellion in her own party, then she's going to have to put down the [Donald] Trump rebellion and then try to govern.
N.W.A had something in common with the Rolling Stones and MC5 and groups like that: the voice of rebellion. It's rebellion against your parents. It's rebellion against the system. It's rebellion against society.
Kissing Macaulay Culkin was like kissing a brother. It was really no big deal.
I woke up this morning,” Gabriel said, “thinking of nothing more than rolling over and pulling you into my arms and kissing you again. Kissing: only kissing. As if I were a green boy of fourteen. In case you don’t realize it, Kate, kissing is not a man’s usual inclination in the morning.
I never thought of punk rock as the absolute act of rebellion for the sake of rebellion. There's a lot of that in there, but for me I think punk rock was always about questioning things and making decisions for yourself, which is a great message to pass on to your kids.
I've never been that comfortable with the acting thing. It's difficult for me to separate what's really going on. If there's kissing, that's kissing. I'm not acting; I don't know how.
I've never really subscribed to the theory that repression breeds rebellion. I don't think that's really true.
I guess rebelliousness has been explored in many movies, but what about the smart kids' rebellion? Not just the motorcycle jackets and that kind of rebellion; it's the dorky kid - what could he do?
You need response from the fan to fuel your sense of musical rebellion. It's very symbiotic, it's very cyclic in a way. You can't have one without the other. So I think the rebellion is reflected in the audience, but at the same time, the artist has to have that passion too. And I think once you're a fan for life, you feed each other's sense of passion and rage and whatnot. You really can't have one without the other.
Just once, I'd like to find a boy. And I like him and he likes me. And we have a laugh and the kissing's really good and there's no-one getting in the way of the laughing and the kissing. Is that too much to ask?
Adrian suddenly glanced up at me. Our gazes locked, and I felt like he could read my mind. How often did he think about that kiss? And if he really was crazy about me, did he imagine more than just kissing? Did he fantasize about me? What kinds of things did he think about? His lips on my neck? His hand on my leg? And was that leg bare . . . ?
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