My father was a house,my mother was a home.
LANG LEAVHe gave her such gifts – not the kind that were put in boxes, but the sort that filled her with imagination, breathing indescribable happiness into her life.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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Have you ever loved a rose, and bled against her thorns; and swear each night to let her go, then love her more by dawn.
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You can create something that is pure genius, but you have to get your timing right.
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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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Yes, we took it all for granted-but isn’t that such a blessed thing? When you’re not even thinking about what you have, because you never imagine you someday won’t.
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I saw love in your smile and I recognized it for the first time in my life. But you had a plane to catch and I was already home.
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There are many things in life you can postpone, but love isn’t one of them.
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I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.
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The ache will always be there, but the intensity will fade, and you’ll find other beautiful things to fill your days with.
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You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.
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Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.
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You’re still crying about him aren’t you? Silly girl. What good will it do you to spill those sky blu tears? You meant either everything to him or absolutely nothing at all.
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Here and now I love you, for the moment you have my heart. But you are entitled to my future, you have no ownership of my past.
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My indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.
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I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
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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.
LANG LEAV