Jax Teller Quotes

There is an old saying: "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I don't believe that. I think the things that try to kill you make you angry and sad. Strength comes from the good things: your family, your friends, the satisfaction of hard work. Those are the things that will keep you whole. Those are the things to hold onto when you are broken.

It's hard not to hate. People, things, institutions. When they break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed... hate is the only feeling that makes sense. But I know what hate does to a man. Tears him apart. Turns him into something he's not. Something he promised himself he'd never become.

Every time I think maybe I'm heading in the right direction, I end up in a place I never even knew could feel this bad.

It was sort of like being in one of those love-and-horror supernatural novels, the kind Mrs. Robinson in the school library sniffily called “tweenager porn.” In those books the girls dallied with werewolves, vampires—even zombies—but hardly ever became those things. It was also nice to have a grown man stand up for her, and it didn’t hurt that he was handsome, in a scruffy kind of way that reminded her a little of Jax Teller on Sons of Anarchy, a show she and Emma Deane secretly watched on Em’s computer.

You’ve been watching Sons of Anarchy, haven’t you?” Pic asked, sighing heavily. Cody swallowed, then nodded. “Fucking show. Whole damned world thinks they’re Jax Teller.

It's hard not to hate. People, things, institutions. When they break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed... hate is the only feeling that makes sense. But I know what hate does to a man. Tears him apart. Turns him into something he's not. Something he promised himself he'd never become.

I could grow a beard, I think.” I snort. “Oh, honey. That’s literally the least interesting thing about Jax Teller. You gonna buy a motorcycle too? Treat her like an old lady? Start stashing guns and drugs in the Zamboni?

What’s your type, Bailey?” “Well, let’s see. I like them tall, hot, muscled. A great ass is a must. A little scruff is great but I don’t like full on beards much. Not a suit wearing person. Not clean cut but a little rough. Someone who knows who he is and what he is about.” “Hate to shatter your illusions, babe, but you just described me. Hah! Let’s go to bed and good luck trying to keep your mitts off my goodies!” I laugh at her. “Oh my god! You are as full of yourself as Mac!” “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Name someone who matches your description. Who is your perfect man?” “Jax Teller from Sons of Anarchy. That’s my type,” she grins at me. The little wench is just trying to get a rise out of me. It’s working, too. “Jax looks just like me except I have more muscle and shave my head. Everyone says that so we’re back to where we started. Am I going to get fondled in my sleep tonight?” I tease her. “You wish, biker boy! Just keep to your side of the bed or you might end up getting junk punched[…]