Our lives were never ours. There was no real life because we didn’t have any choice. Our lives belong to Snow and our deaths do, too. But if you kill him, Katniss, if you end all of this, all those deaths, they mean something.
Find your own purpose. And one day, when we see each other again, I want you to tell me what you’ve found.
Maybe that’s why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn’t able to do what it was meant to do… Maybe it’s the same with people. If you lose your purpose… it’s like you’re broken.
We’re not here because we’re free. We’re here because we are not free. There’s no escaping reason, no denying purpose. Because, as we both know, without purpose, we would not exist.