He and I When words run dry, he does not try, nor do I. We are on par. He just is, I just am, and we just are.
LANG LEAVBefore I fell in live with words, with setting skies and singing birds – it was you I fell in love with first.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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I build my walls from the mess they leave.
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Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.
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And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.
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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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You can’t borrow from the future, to make up for the past.
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It was pure bliss and absolute torture at the same time. I was in daze, as if my brain had suddenly packed up and gone on vacation. I could barely string words together in a sentence.
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The only ones they can turn against you are those who were never with you.
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I don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.
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Every day I measure the weight of my past against the present and feel the drag of what could have been.
LANG LEAV -
Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.
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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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She can feel it down to her very core-this is her time. She will not only climb mountains-she will move them too.
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In many ways, a book is, in itself, a tiny universe. Each page is like a newly formed galaxy, fashioned from a single, pulsing thought. A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
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Before the tears that tore us, when our history was before us.
LANG LEAV -
I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.
LANG LEAV