Love. 4 letters, a thousand meanings. There are several forms of interpretation for this word. There are those who like and some say that love is of no use. By the way, what's the point of love? Would it be some kind of an excuse for us to feel less empty and more human? Are we really capable of love? Who invented that we love with the heart? Isn't his job to pump blood to keep us alive? Is this the function of love? Keep us alive? Or does love kill us bit by bit? Some say that dies for love. By a person, a place, a band, or by oneself. To die of love for oneself is nascism? Or is it being self-reliant? Has anyone ever died of love? I don't know. But some say that kills for love. This is love? It's more to an obsession. Love sets us free. Those who really love let others be free to be happy, even if not with you. Are we able to truly love more than one person in our lives? So many questions to be answered. Is science capable of answering all this? After all, what is love to you?
I'll not put the scenes in orders because I love with all my strength every Clexa's scenes! 1 • Clarke getting mad at Lexa because she don't want Lexa to fight with Roan;
But then, when the fights will begin...
She was so afraid of lost the love of her life. 2 • Their fist meet.
3 • The way that Clarke makes Lexa feel so vulnerable.
4 • And one of the more cutest Clexa's scenes. The way they look to each other giving all the love, showing all their feelings, just in a look.
''Good night, Commander.'' ''Good night, Ambassador.'' 5 • Their first kiss. ''Don't we deserve better than that?'' ''Maybe we do...''
6 • Maybe life should be about more than just surviving
You were right, Clarke.
7 • Bowing to each other and swearing allegiance.
8 • Their second kiss.
9 • You can't ever forget, if you attack Clarke, you attack Lexa.
10 • May we meet again, reshop Heda.
And for bonus, Clarke and Lexa parallels.
Of course I didn't put ALL my favs because Clexa's love history is one of the most beautiful LGBT's love in a serie. Enjoy!
"Tell me the story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much that he dies every night just to let her breathe."
The moon was alone one evening, shining in the midnight sky. Although she was surrounded by myriads of tiny, sparkly stars, she felt as if there was no one to understand her. She eagerly searched the skies for a friend, perhaps a meteor, with whom to discuss the joys and sorrows of her life. But there was nobody. On the other side of the world, the sun yawned and awoke to shine his light upon the blue-green temples of God. He heard the call to worship, and saw the waves of people bowing and praying. He felt full of good will and charity towards the masses of God's servitors. Perhaps they were not holy, but at least they were faithful. The moon stayed alone, suspended in the sky with none to touch her. A tiny star whispered to her of a great being, the sun, who brought joy and light to the world. She listened with interest, for it seemed that once, a long time ago, she had seen a being such as this. Beautiful as he was, the sun seemed always just beyond her reach. She would visit the places where he had been, and would always find that he had just left. Those who knew him spoke of his wonder and his glory, and she felt unworthy to be in his presence. Now the sun was unaware of her yearning, for he was too busy making the crops grow and warming the world. Those who wished his light had only to look upward to heaven and he was there, beaming down upon them. The moon continued to follow the sun, always coming nearer to him, always hearing that he had just left that portion of the sky, or was just over the next mountain range. Where before there was despair, now she was ever more hopeful, for she knew that she was approaching his presence. She came closer and closer, until one glorious day came when she stood before him, naked and unafraid. The world looked up and saw only blackness - in the middle of the day. But the moon stood mid-way between the sun and the earth, and all of his glory was for her. His light blotted out all of her loneliness, all of her pain, all of her past. She stood bathed in wonder before him, and his light filled her soul. She passed away from him full of light and joy, and though his light was too bright to remember, it was also too powerful to forget. She was dizzy with wonder. As time passed, it seemed that she once had been a being full of light, yet it was so long ago… Such is the soul of man, dear one. It yearns for the glorious light of Truth, which destroys all loneliness and memory. The many lives of man are as many times as the moon sees the sun - after each, nothing remains but a vague idea of a beauty once seen. And there is always the longing, and always the return. "I think it's beautiful how the Moon glows using Sun's light and the Sun never asks for anything in return."
