I have always thought of memories as fragments, like colored glass shards in a kaleidoscope. It is the source of great beauty in our lives, yet the cause of such heartache. It remains the bridge between our past and present – it gives weight and dimension to our very existence.
LANG LEAVI 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.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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Here’s the story of my life. Hoping they would care about me or wishing they wouldn’t care so much.
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Hands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love – love is you.
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The second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.
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And the weather was so damn sick of being predictable; I heard it began snowing in the Sahara and I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed.
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When you don’t have the whole attention of someone, you find yourself begging for it from everyone.
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That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.
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I thought you were a keeper, I wish I could have kept you.
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That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
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When you lose a person, a whole universe goes along with them.
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Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.
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The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.
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You won’t hear from me again after today, and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be okay. Because I have to be.
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I know you were born with your heart already broken. But the world began in pieces and somehow made itself whole.
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How much love is a person capable of giving? I thought I knew the answer until I met you.
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It was the year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.
LANG LEAV