We all have moments of darkness, moments when we are so unlike ourselves. And like vultures they wait for a slip, a misstep, then they take that part of us and try to convince the world that is all we are.
LANG LEAVRemember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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You may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself.
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Are you like me? Do you give too much, too quickly? Do you throw yourself blindly at the world, thinking that it will always open its arms up to you?
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And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.
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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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There are things I miss that I shouldn’t, and things I don’t that I should. Sometimes we want what we couldn’t, sometimes we love what we could.
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It is only the year that is ending. So why does it feel like the world is?
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I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
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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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Don’t stay where you are needed. Go where you are loved.
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It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.
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That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
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I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them.
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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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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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Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.
LANG LEAV