New countries will grow up on the graceful promontories where a few people gather together. And they will not even remember how we once held the world in our hands and how we crushed it like a bird in our hands.
“The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol’s plans. The symbol of the rebellion.”