Lex

“An order from the justices went out in New Hanover County, North Carolina, in the search of a runaway named London, granting that "any person may KILL and DESTROY the said slave by such means as he or they may think fit." This casual disregard for black life and the deputizing of any citizen to take that life would become a harbinger of the low value accorded African-Americans in the police and vigilante shootings of unarmed black citizens that continued into the early decades of the 21st century.”
― Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents

“Just Let them.
If they want to choose something or someone over you, LET THEM.
If they want to go weeks without talking to you, LET THEM.
If they are okay with never seeing you, LET THEM.
If they are okay with always putting themselves first, LET THEM.
If they are showing you who they are and not what you perceived them to be, LET THEM.
If they want to follow the crowd, LET THEM.
If they want to judge or misunderstand you, LET THEM.
If they act like they can live without you, LET THEM.


If they want to walk out of your life and leave, hold the door open, AND LET THEM.

Let them lose you. You were never theirs, because you were always your own.
So let them.”
― Cassie Phillips

“When Ava turned away, Jules leaned in and whispered, “He’s totally whipped. Watch.” She raised her voice to a panicked level. “Oh my God! Ava, are you bleeding?” Alex’s head snapped up. Less than five seconds later, he ended his call and crossed the room to a confused-looking Ava, whose hand froze halfway to the scones on the table. “I’m fine,” Ava said as Alex searched her for injuries. She glared at Jules. “What did I just say?” “I can’t help it.” Jules’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s so much fun. It’s like playing with a windup toy.” “Until the toy comes alive and kills you,” Stella murmured loud enough for everyone to hear. Alex stared at Jules with displeasure scrawled all over his face. His features were so perfect it was a little unnerving, like seeing a carefully sculpted statue come to life. Some people were into that, but I preferred men with a little more grit. Give me scars and a nose that was slightly crooked from being broken too many times over perfection. “Pray you and Ava stay friends forever,” Alex said, icy enough to elicit a rash of goosebumps on my arms.”
― Ana Huang, Twisted Games

“Across the United States, there are more than seventeen hundred monuments to the Confederacy, monuments to a breakaway republic whose constitution and leaders were unequivocal in declaring the purpose of their new nation. "Its foundations are laid," "its corner-stone rests upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery subordination to the superior race is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth... With us, all of the white race, however high or low, rich or poor, are equal in the eye by nature, or by curse against Canaan, is fitted for that condition which he occupies in our system.”
― Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents