It was the year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.
LANG LEAVI was there in your forgetting, until I was forgot.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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He swept in like a tsunami, wave after wave, and I didn’t stand a chance. All those warnings, all the things they tried to prepare me for-lost in an instant-to the enormity of what I felt.
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We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.
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When in truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.
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There is one who you belong to, whose love- there is no song for.
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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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You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole.
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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 distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.
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The most beautiful thing is not when you learn to live without something: it’s the moment you realize you never needed it in the first place.
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I used to think people were like lighthouses. That they were there to protect you. But they’re no. People are lime whirlpools. They pull you in; they drag you under. You have to work so hard just to keep your head above water.
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We all have moments of darkness, moments when we are so unlike ourselves. And like vultures they wait for a slip, a misstep, then they take that part of us and try to convince the world that is all we are.
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Love is a dormant volcano, lying in wait, biding its time.
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For she is his poet, and he is her poetry.
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When love finds you, it doesn’t come as crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise-where the promise of summer shines out from within.
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I have always thought of memories as fragments, like colored glass shards in a kaleidoscope. It is the source of great beauty in our lives, yet the cause of such heartache. It remains the bridge between our past and present – it gives weight and dimension to our very existence.
LANG LEAV