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Correspondance
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Jan 31, 2025 11:28AM

 
Une mémoire pour ...
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"je sais pas si je vais continuer à le lire pour l’instant je fais que pleurer" Dec 15, 2024 01:42PM

 
Le cheval blanc
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"j’arrive pas à finiiiiiiir omg mais je trouve le livre tellement indigeste" Aug 21, 2024 03:52AM

 
Book cover for The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air, #1)
“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.�
Ines
arghhhhhh
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Suzanne Collins
“I'm not their slave," the man mutters.
"I am," I say. "That's why I killed Cato... and he killed Thresh... and he killed Clove... and she tried to kill me. It just goes around and around, and who wins? Not us. Not the districts. Always the capitol. But I'm tired of being a piece in their games.”
Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins
“There's a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don't give up on him.”
Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins
“All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.”
Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins
“But his arms are there to comfort me, and eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him "Real.”
Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins
“It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me."
Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging his head. "No. I don't want to. . ."
I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me."
His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.”
Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay

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