In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.
LANG LEAVPeople who are prone to sadness are more likely to pick up a pen.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.
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We will remain unwritten through history, no X will mark us on the map; but in books of prose and poetry, you loved me once, in a paragraph.
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Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.
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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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Doesn’t your soul remain the age you were when you first fell in love?
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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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Be patient. Your voice will find its way into the world, not in one loud instance but a steady trickle that turns into a deluge.
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There are things we sacrifice for love, that we willingly give. But no one who loves you will ever ask you to give up more than you are willing.
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I want you to be happy. I want someone else to know the warmth of your smile, to feel the way I did when I was in your presence.
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It’s so dark right now, I can’t see any light around me. That’s because the light is coming from you. You can’t see it but everyone else can.
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A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
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I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.
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Understand that we must lose our way, over and over, before we can find the best version of ourselves.
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Don’t let them tell you that your pain should be confined to the past, that it bears no relevance to the present.
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You can’t borrow from the future, to make up for the past.
LANG LEAV






