We are all dying, every moment that passes of every day. That is the inescapable truth of this existence. It is a truth that can paralyze us with fear, or one that can energize us with impatience, with the desire to explore and experience, with the hope- nay, the iron-will!- to find a memory in every action. To be alive, under sunshine, or starlight, in weather fair or stormy. To dance with every step, be they through gardens of flowers or through deep snows.
I've seen many politicians paralyzed in the legs as myself, but I've seen more of them who were paralyzed in the head
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.
This isn't a crush, it's obsession.You are never not in my thoughts. Your scent carries across a room and paralyzes me with longing. I don't want to hold your hand. Part of me wants to set you on fire and hold you while the flame consumes us both, to eat your heart so I know that only I possess it entirely.