It's there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snows greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again.

Remember, girl on fire,” he says, “I'm still betting on you.

I must have loved you a lot.

It's just me and the Bane. And I'm fighting him because he killed all of those innocent mice and people, and I have to stop him. Not because Sandwich says so but because I say so.

Oh, Peeta, Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.

Tick tock, this is a clock.

I think....you still have no idea. The effect you can have.