Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.
LANG LEAVMy indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel the constant need to explain myself. I don’t want to live in a world like that either.
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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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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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My heart is like a time capsule-it keeps safe the memory of you. I know it’s harder with you gone than if you had never been here at all-but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
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I had no way of knowing, when I was sitting alone in that tiny bedroom, that in just a few short months, I would meet the love of my life: a man who lived across the ocean from me, in a little house by the sea.
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And I sighed and wept for what could not be–and for all that could have been.
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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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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 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.
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And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.
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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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Our love story comes to me in waves, in movie stills and long summer afternoons spent under a sky of incessant blue. I still think of your eyes in flashes of color, your hands in a frenetic, feverish blur-your smile a mosaic of light and shadow. I still find myself lost in those moments of abstraction.
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You are a writer bleeding words onto a page. And the ones who hate you will trample on that page. And the ones who love you will cut you, to keep you bleeding.
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Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.
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You must emerge from adversity, scathed but victorious to tell your story and, in turn, light the way for others.
LANG LEAV