Lexa Quotes

Maybe life should be about more than just surviving.

Typographical laziness was slowly destroying our culture, according to Lexa and her pals. Inexactitude was death.

Jameson: I just nailed you Lexa: Strange. I didn’t feel a thing. Jameson: I just EMAILED you. I swear to GOD I typed emailed and my phone changed it Lexa: Sure you did

Khloe Kinsella, Lexa Reed, Cole Harris, Drew Adams, Taylor Frost, Carina Johansson, Clare Bryant, Brielle Monaco, Zack Reynolds, Garret van Camp

No matter how much you try, you cannot change the future. You cannot change. Not really. That's the problem with optimism, with hope. You end up disappointed.

Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.

I would never hurt you like that, Lexa, because I love you more than I could ever hate him

Life doesn't always hand you the answers. Sometimes the best you can do is make a decision and stick to it. Tali's dad always says that the best business decisions rely on intuition, after all. There isn't always a right move, just a move that feels right.

One night reviled, Before break of morn, Amid the roses wild, All tangled in thorns, The shadow and the child Together were born. The

You know, I used to love looking at the stars at night. I used to think they were put there to guide us. Now I know they are just watching and winking, mute observers, bemused by our failures and our loss.

Why should I learn of another world, a vaster world, if it means regretting my whole life until now? Who wants to be made to loathe what they have? Small as it is, my life is mine.

I said she looked dead," Lexa said, her eyes lifting to stare into mine. "She looked rotten.

If there’s one thing I know, it's that after all the right and wrong things I’ve done, I’ll be eternally grateful for the one thing I did right - giving my heart to you. And I'll be there for all the good and bad days for the rest of my life." Lexa moved down the bed, trying not to put any strain on her wound, so she could lie next to him. "I'm glad that after everything, you haven't given up on me yet. I'm grateful for that," she whispered, looking over at him. Den rolled onto his side to face her, his free hand ran through her reddish-brown hair. "Giving up on you is not, and never will be, an option. I know who you are, Lex. Why would I ever give up on you? You're my girl. That won't ever change." He silenced any further protest from her with a kiss.

Now she knew the truth--grief meant never going back, never collecting the pieces. It meant that the person she was now in the aftermath of Lexa's death was who she would be until the next death

Don't give up faith ... Even if common sense tells you that you should.

Victory stands on the back of sacrifice

We sculpt truth out of the world's formlessness, and thus it is often precisely what we already believe that comes to pass.

Why should I want to learn fo another world, a vaster world, if it means regretting my whole life until now? Who wants to be made to loath what they have? Small as it is, my life is mine.

And she has never cared about the odd bruises and scrapes from falling or fumbling her way home–these are simply the world's way of proving its own existence, the souvenirs of a life actually lived.

Aubrey struggled with the lump in her throat and gasped a little, then tasted a hint of salt in her mouth. "Mine?" she asked with a tremor in her voice. Kinsey cupped Aubrey's cheek and whispered, "Yours." She nudged her face closer, placing a feather kiss against Aubrey's lips. "Ours.

It's crazy to think that they've been so close to a way out all this time, but have never known it. Then again, she realizes, perhaps everyone has the key to her own prison. Maybe freedom is just a matter of knowing the right story, of being brave enough to say the right words in the right order at the right time.

When you love someone, you don’t let ‘em get stupid without you by their side.

How do I know you’re not a—a Mogadorian?” he asks. “Malcolm, if you’d ever seen one of those bastards, you’d realize that’s the most insulting question I’ve ever been asked.

Everyone around her—everyone on earth, in fact—is constantly pursuing his or her own separate journey through life, going mostly unnoticed. She’s just one of infinite possibilities and realities. She plays a minor, passing role in Uma’s life—if that.

It's neither the past nor the future- everything that has happened before now mashes up to everything that will happen one day, and she feels endless: young and ancient at the same time, like she's always existed, like she's shining brilliantly.

You. Carrying me upstairs, downstairs, upstairs again.” He jerked back. “You were in pain.” “Jett—” She gripped his sleeve and peered into his eyes. “I can take care of myself.” “I never said you couldn’t, but isn’t it nice, Lexa, when someone steps up once in a while? It doesn’t make you less strong to need and accept help.” He remained close, hovering over her. “It always crushed me when you were sick or hurt. Even with a cold.” “You never said.” “I didn’t want you to think I was a sissy.” “I would never think you were a sissy.

I really like cheese

Sommeil gives her that exact feeling: those brief hours when you are holding an unread story in your hands and don't yet know how it will end. You would be content if the biscuits never rose and were never consumed, the irises in the garden never bloomed and faded, the rain hovered but never fell. The not-yet-ness tastes sweeter than the thing you're waiting for.

People say to be like water and change with the times, but I prefer to be like a rock,” I said, puffing out my chest. “Unchanging. Unmoving.” “Hard-headed, you mean,” said Emma. “A man-baby, you mean,” said Lexa.

Careful, Mortal. I'm not above turning you into a goat for my own enjoyment." "Your enjoyment?" Lexa cackled. "That would be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Just...be careful, Persephone. I know you want to save Lexa, but what will you destroy to get there?

Persephone was drawn to Lexa’s edginess—she had tattoos, hair as black as night, and a love of the Goddess of Witchcraft, Hecate. Where are you? Persephone responded, The Coffee House.

A voice followed, “Drinks on me.” Lexa and Persephone turned to find a man standing behind them. He had a jawline as sharp as a diamond and a head of thick, curly hair as dark as his eyes, and his skin was a beautiful, burnished brown. He was one of the most handsome men Persephone had ever seen.

She gets back into bed, either to sleep and dream, or else to wake up form this nightmare, but neither happens. Instead, she lies awake, the starling's words lingering in her ears. Useless.

Mud. Murk. Darkness and blackness and bog land and fog so thick it entered the folds of the mind. This was Isabelle's world as a child. Gradually, though, she discovered darkness was not an absence of light but a living thing, an infinitely tangible substance to roll around and dig into.

You never stopped being family to me! And I never stopped loving you. I simply buried it deeper and deeper so no one was aware.

The kiss had been both surprising and seamless, both endless and somehow fleeting. His lips were warm and soft, so unlike the other, more calloused parts of him she was used to. His tongue was there, communicating with her own in a foreign language—and there was so much, so much to say with just their bodies, with just their lips.

The not-yet-ness tastes sweeter than the thing you're waiting for.

Znalost Slovanstva, zejména Jihoslovanů a Ruska, dovedla mne k boji s Aehrenthalem (Alois Lexa von Aehrenthal - český šľachtic, diplomat a politik; podľla wikipedie, pozn. čitateľa) o rakouskou politiku balkánskou; naše obvyklé slovanství mně bylo nesympathické. Hnusilo se mi to slovanské žvanění, jak to jednou odsoudil Neruda, nemohl jsem klidně snést ty vlastence a Slovany, kteří se nenaučili ani azbuce a s Rusy a cizinci vůbec musili mluvit německy. Živě vzpomínám, jak mně moji nejbližší kolegové zazlívali, když jsem přiváděl na přetřes otázku slovenskou a když jsem jí v 'Naší Době' a v 'Čase' věnoval zvláštní pozornost. Mně nestačila ta abstraktní a úzce politická národnost a láska k vlasti, na neznalost skutečného národa a lidu v Čechách, na Moravě a na Slovensku. Od dětství jsem cítil své češství konkrétně v pochopování charakteru, názorů a života svých krajanů tam na Slovácku a na Slovensku a postupem doby na Moravě a v Čechách. Praha zajisté má stejné oprávnění jak Čejkovice nebo Bystrička; ale v Praze je příliš mnoho lidí, kteří nežijí nerudovskou malostranštinou, nýbrž kavárenskou abstraktností a hospodskou fantastičností. To ovšem platí o všech městech a také u jiných národů, ale proto to není méně odporné. Své češství a slovenství cítím, řekl bych, venkovsky, dialekticky; filosoficky cítím s Husem, Chelčickým, Žižkou a t. d. až po Havlíčka. Doma i ve Vídni mě tížil Kocourkov; ten Kocourkov pražský, ale stejně vídeňský a rakouský vůbec. Malost nespočívá v geografii, ale v lidech, charakterech, mravech. Světovost nezíská se jen obvyklým cestováním, oficiálním stykem mezinárodním a mezistátním, nýbrž duchovním pohroužením v život jednotlivcův, národův, lidstva.

He waves and murmurs good-bye to her and her servant, Byrne, wondering if he will miss them, and whether any of us will ever find what we are searching for, or if it is simply the searching for that makes us who we are.

For as much as everyone lives in fear that he or she might be destined for tragic ends, Malfleur was equally revolted by the idea of a happily ever after. Perhaps because both actually suggested the same thing to her: an ending.

She's been so blind. To think she was a prisoner of circumstances, that it was her lack of voice, a jealous faerie bargain, that held her back all these years. Really, it has always been her own obedience - her desire to please, to do everything right, to follow instead of lead - that has stopped her from truly living.

Hades," she began again, and he closed his eyes as her voice shuddered through him. He waited to feel like she had some sort of control over his emotions before finally meeting her gaze. "I love you," she said. He ground his teeth against the feeling clawing up the back of his throat, burning the backs of his eyes. It was the first time he'd let himself think of the possibility of never hearing her voice again. It was the first time he understood her desperation to keep Lexa alive. It did not matter that he was the God of the Dead and that she would come to reside in his realm forever. What mattered was that she was warm and well and whole, that her heart could beat in tandem with his, that she could go between their worlds, because that was what made her happiest.

What do you mean why? Why not?" he asked, then he narrowed his eyes. "I'm fashion, Lexa!" Persephone looked at Lexa, and they rolled their eyes together, then laughed. Hermes glared, unamused. His shirt squeaked as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like a rubber ducky," said Lexa, still laughing. Hermes frowned. "What's a rubber ducky?" he paused for a moment, and then his face brightened. "Is it kinky?" "Yes," Lexa said. Persephone raised a brow, and Lexa turned to look at her. "What?" she asked innocently. "Nothing," Persephone said as she bent to retrieve her purse. "You better not be lying to me," said Hermes, suspicious. "I would never!" Lexa said.

That is not true,” Persephone said. “I know he cares for you.” He was probably already in love. Lexa frowned and then looked up at the sky. “What do I do?” “Do you like him?” “Yes,” she said. “Very much.” “Then tell him,” Persephone said. “And he will likely tell you that you cannot be together, and when he does, ask why.” “And what do I do when he tells me why?” “I think you have two options depending on what he says,” she said. “You can kiss him, or you can leave him.” “Leave him?” “Yes, leave him. Especially if he tells you that you cannot be together.” Lexa frowned. “Then what do I do?” “You live,” she said. “You live as if he’d told you yes.