elizabethbanks:

I’m willing to bet you felt all of these emotions while reading Mockingjay. You’re not alone. 

My nose twitches. It’s the smell. Cloying and artificial. A dab of white peeks out of a vase of dried flowers on my dresser. I approach it with cautious steps. There, all but obscured by its preserved cousins, is a fresh white rose. Perfect. Down to the last thorn and silken petal.

And I know immediately who’s sent it to me.

President Snow.

"You fall in love and it completely consumes you. So a part of you is broken when that’s gone. And part of you wants to have that rebellious feeling where you’re just like “Forget it. I can do anything I want”. I’ve tried it and I’ve never been that girl. I’m always going to be the girl you want to take home to your parents, not for the night.”

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