Peeta Mellark Quotes

You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?

And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.

You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

I must have loved you a lot.

Ally." Peeta says the words slowly, tasting it. "Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out. The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up.

Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?” I say. “I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I'm okay once I realize you're here.

I'm more than just a piece in their Games.

If Peeta and I were both to die, or they thought we were....My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says. We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight. "Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says. I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. "One." Maybe I'm wrong. "Two." Maybe they don't care if we both die. "Three!" It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you - the tributes of District 12!

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours," I say. "For what? Nothing's going on here," he says. "Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot." This, of course, brings on a scowl that makes him grin.

Because...because...she came here with me.

To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite colour . . . it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.

So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent...and right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner.

You and me Haymitch.Very cozy.Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights sitting around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tale. -Peeta Mellark

I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

She zips back to the podium, and I don't even have time to wish for Gale's safety when she's reading the name. "Peeta Mellark." Peeta Mellark! Oh, no, I think. Not him. Because I recognize this name, although I have never spoken directly to its owner. Peeta Mellark. No, the odds are not in my favor today.

I don't think it's going to work out. Winning...won't help in any case. Because...she came here with me. - Peeta Mellark

Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.

What happens when we get back? I don't know. I guess we try and forget. I don't want to forget.

What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me...no competition...best thing that ever happened to you..." "I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. "Oh, that's right. That what I was thinking," he says.

Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says. “Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.

They'll be granted immunity!" I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full of resonant. "You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'll find yourself another Mockingjay!

I want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you. -Peeta Mellark

So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. - Peeta Mellark

Our lives aren't just measured in years. They're measured in the lives of people we touch around us

Come to finish me off, Sweetheart?

To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed. And more than once, I have turned in the school hallway and caught his eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit away. I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I'd be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we're going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.

Always.

I just don't want them to change me, if I'm going to die I still want to be me.

He hasn't accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread, is fighting hard to kill me.

We were five. You had a plaid dress and your hair...it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out while we were waiting to line up. He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.' And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.' So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She put you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, ever bird outside the windows fell silent. And right when your song ended, I knew -just like your mother- I was a goner.

It’s the final word in camouflage. Forget chucking weights around. Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree. Or a boulder. Or a muddy bank full of weeds.

But more words tumble out. 'You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.' Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

They don't own me. If I'm gonna die, I wanna still be me.

Jenna turned and shot her another worried look. Her tone was ultra soothing. “Yeah. I hear you. And I’m head over heels with Harry Potter and Peeta Mellark. Stay with me. Okay? I’m right here. I feel your love. Now feel mine and start walking.

Let the games begin!

Where's your boyfriend, District 12? Still hanging on?" She asks. Well, as long as we're talking I'm alive. "He's out there now. Hunting Cato," I snarl at her. Then I scream at the top of my lungs. "Peeta!" Clove jams her fist into my windpipe, very effectively cutting off my voice. But her head's whipping from side to side, and I know for a moment she's at least considering I'm telling the truth. Since no Peeta appears to save me, she turns back to me. "Liar," she says with a grin. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it.

Our lives are not measured in years, but are measured in the lives of people we touch around us.

I remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was in two braids instead of one. I remember when you sang in the music assembly and the teacher said "who knows the valley song?" and your hand shot straight up. After that, I watched you going home everyday. Everyday

If I'm going to die, I want to still be me

No," Finnick repeats. 'Because whatever happened in the past is the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance.' He eyes Peeta for a moment. 'Except maybe Peeta.' Finnick knows then what Haymitch and I know. About Peeta. Being truly, deep-down better than the rest of us.

I wish i could freeze this moment right here.. right now.. and live in it forever.

You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up, she said maybe District 12 will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you." -Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games

Only I keep wishing of a way to... to show the capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their games.

I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol's design, not mine.

I wish we could live in this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever

He said, See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner." -Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games

Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death. Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life. Then the ants bore into my eyes and I black out.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!

The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. “Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!

So, what do you think they'll do to him?" I ask. Prim sounds about a thousand years old when she speaks. "Whatever it takes to break you.

Maybe . . . because for the first time . . . there was a chance I could keep him,

Katniss, when I see you again, it'll be a different world.

Las piezas todavía no han encajado del todo, pero siento que se forma un plan, que no ha aceptado su muerte. Ya está luchando por seguir vivo, lo que significa, además, que el bueno de Peeta Mellark, el chico que me dio el pan, está luchando por matarme.

Quiero morir siendo yo mismo. ¿Tiene sentido?

I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people.

At least my blood is flowing

So after, when he whispers, 'You love me. Real or not real?' I tell him, 'Real.

Our lives are not measured in years but are measured in th lives of people we touch around us.

He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me the bread, is fighting hard to kill me.

—Desearía demostrarle al Capitolio que no soy una pieza más de sus juegos. —Peeta Mellark.

¿Sabes lo que dijo mi madre? “El distrito 12 por fin tendrá un ganador”, pero no se refería a mí. Se estaba refiriendo a ti. –Peeta Mellark.

Yo lo recuerdo todo de ti. Tu eres la que no estaba prestando atención. –Peeta Mellark.

A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous than an unkind one

Our lives aren't just measured in years. They're measured in the lives of people we touch around us". ― Peeta Mellark.

If I'm Gonna Die, I Wanna Still Be Me.” - Peeta Mellark, Hunger Games

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.

Apparently, Peeta Mellark’s information was sound and we owe him a great debt of gratitude.

A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one.

I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!

By proving to the country beyond any shadow of a doubt that I love Peeta Mellark.

The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

I can’t stop the redness that floods my cheeks. It’s stupid, of course. Hardly anybody knows me better than Hazelle. Knows the bond I share with Gale. I’m sure plenty of people assumed that we’d eventually get married even if I never gave it any thought. But that was before the Games. Before my fellow tribute, Peeta Mellark, announced he was madly in love with me. Our romance became a key strategy for our survival in the arena. Only it wasn’t just a strategy for Peeta. I’m not sure what it was for me. But I know now it was nothing but painful for Gale. My chest tightens as I think about how, on the Victory Tour, Peeta and I will have to present ourselves as lovers again.

Because you have a weakness for beautiful thing and I don't" I say with an air of superiority "They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you'd be lost entirely.” "Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness,

So I’m pondering the reason why he insists on taking care of Haymitch and all of a sudden I think, It’s because he’s being kind. Just as he was kind to give me the bread. The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there. And I can’t let Peeta do this. Not where we’re going. So I decide, from this moment on, to have as little as possible to do with the baker’s son.

I nod and head to my own room. I understand how Peeta feels. I can’t stand the sight of the Capitol people myself. But making them deal with Haymitch might be a small form of revenge. So I’m pondering the reason why he insists on taking care of Haymitch and all of a sudden I think, It’s because he’s being kind. Just as he was kind to give me the bread. The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there. And I can’t let Peeta do this.

I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despite being one myself. I think Peeta was on to something about us destroying one another and letting some decent species take over, because there is something significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices our children's lives to settle our differences.

So I’m pondering the reason why he insists on taking care of Haymitch and all of a sudden I think, It’s because he’s being kind. Just as he was kind to give me the bread. The idea pulls me up short. A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one. Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with? Do you really know hat's going on? And if you don't… find out." - Peeta

if it weren't for the baby

have misjudged him. I think of his actions since the reaping began. The friendly squeeze of my hand. His father showing up with the cookies and promising to feed Prim . . . did Peeta put him up to that? His tears at the station. Volunteering to wash Haymitch but then challenging him this morning when apparently the nice-guy approach had failed. And now the waving at the window, already trying to win the crowd. All of the pieces are still fitting together, but I sense he has a plan forming. He hasn’t accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that kind Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me the bread, is fighting hard to kill me.

What are you doing?" "I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her," he says. "I thought we could plant them along the side of the house." I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the word /rose/ registers. I'm about to yell vicuous things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for.

Imi intind mana sa-i ating obrazul, iar el mi-o prinde si si-o apasa pe buze.

Din ziua aceea, n-am mai reuşit niciodată să rup legătura dintre băiatul ăsta, Peeta Mellark, pâinea care mi-a dat speranţă şi păpădia care mi-a reamintit că nu eram condamnată la moarte. Şi nu doar o dată mi-am întors capul pe coridorul şcolii, surprinzându-i ochii care mă urmăreau, dar numai pentru a-i vedea întorcându-se fulgerător în altă parte.

Din ziua aceea, n-am mai reuşit niciodată să rup legătura dintre băiatul ăsta,Peeta Mellark, pâinea care mi-a dat speranţă şi păpădia care mi-a reamintit că nu eram condamnată la moarte. Şi nu doar o dată mi-am întors capul pe coridorul şcolii, surprinzându-i ochii care mă urmăreau, dar numai pentru a-i vedea întorcându-se fulgerător în altă parte.