Some days I feel like my soul is being pulled in one direction and my heart in another.
LANG LEAVA book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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I know you are scared. Who could blame you? Love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.
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Yes, I think it is entirely possible to fall in love with someone you’ve never met. Physicality is an expression of intimacy- not an indication of it.
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There is a savagery to what you feel. It eats you up inside. But you will get through it; you don’t need his mouth to placate you. You don’t need his hands to untangle the butterfly knot in your heart. Your love is a fire that will burn itself out. Let it ravage you.
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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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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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Your first love isn’t the first person you give your heart to- it’s the first one who breaks it.
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Take me someplace where I can feel something-I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about.
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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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Loving you is like being ten years old again, scaling a tree with my eyes bright and skyward, wanting only to get higher and higher, without a thought of how I would get back down.
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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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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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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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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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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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How much love is a person capable of giving? I thought I knew the answer until I met you.
LANG LEAV