Isn’t it strange that I know you’d risk your life to save mine, but I don’t even know what your favorite color is?
In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person, you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren’t scraping by like the majority of us.
Because everything that goes around comes around. Maybe it’s luck or maybe it’s fate, but either way, it comes back around.
I’m not scared of hell. I lived a decent life, and I don’t think there is such a place, anyway. I’m scared there’s nothing. There was nothing before, we all know that, so doesn’t it stand to reason that there’s nothing after?