Like time suspended, a wound unmended – you and I. We had no ending, no said goodbye; For all my life, I’ll wonder why.
LANG LEAVAnd I sighed and wept for what could not be–and for all that could have been.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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When you don’t have the whole attention of someone, you find yourself begging for it from everyone.
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And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.
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A Betrayal I cannot undo what I have done; I can’t un-sing a song that’s sung. And the saddest thing about my regret- I can’t forgive me, and you can’t forget.
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My heart is like a time capsule-it keeps safe the memory of you. I know it’s harder with you gone than if you had never been here at all-but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
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You’re young and there’s still so much ahead. So much uncertainty and doubt. It keeps you up at night-this wild, restless feeling. But you don’t know how free you are. For this short, miraculous time, you have no one to answer to, nothing to lose. You belong wholly to yourself.
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Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.
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There are days when the melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.
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The time may not be prime for us, though you are a special person. We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock, in unison.
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Most people want to save the entire world. It’s a lovely thought, and I’m not saying it’s not a noble pursuit-but it’s impossible to save everyone. You just have to pick your little corner of the world and focus your energy there. That’s the only way you will ever make a difference.
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Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.
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The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.
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It should be my right to mourn someone who has yet to leave this world but no longer wants to be part of mine.
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Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.
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I think there is a sense of ownership in knowing, isn’t there? You let people in, and they claim parts of you-they fly their flag over uncharted territory and from then onward-you cease to belong wholly to yourself.
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You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.
LANG LEAV