Lang Leav The Universe Of Us Quotes

I know there is a terrible distance between us. But our bodies are made of stardust, and we are hurtling through space and time, toward the most beautiful collision.

A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.

The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.

It was a kind love, a selfless love. I was a dreamer, and you were a traveler. We met at the crossroads. I saw love in your smile, and I recognized it for the first time in my life. But you had a plane to catch, and I was already home.

She can feel it down to her very core—this is her time. She will not only climb mountains—she will move them too.

When you lose a person, a whole universe goes along with them.

The second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.

I’ve grown quiet now. You won’t hear me talk about you anymore. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. I suppose that is something to be thankful for.

It was all I wanted for the longest time- to open my eyes and see you there. To stretch out my hand and touch the soft, yielding warmth of your skin. But now I have learned the secret of distance. Now I know being close to you was never about the proximity.

Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.

Until It’s Gone “Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone.” “But what about the ones who do know? The ones who never took a damn thing for granted? Who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most.” “Isn’t it so much worse for them?

I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.

Her Time She has been feeling it for awhile - that sense of awaking. There is a gentle rage simmering inside her, and it is getting stronger by the day. She will hold it close to her - she will nurture it and let it grow. She won't let anyone take it away from her. It is her rocket fuel and finally, she is going places. She can feel it down to her very core - this is her time. She will not only climb mountains - she will move them too.

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.

I suppose it's only human nature to add and substract from our memories; to recall them the way we feel they should be remembered. After all, our lives are a living work of art - shouldn't we be allowed to shape it in any way we choose?

It was a quiet love, a tacit love. It came without prelude or preamble. We never said the word love–we didn’t have to. It was in our laughter, in the sense of wonder we found in each other. And if we had doubts then, time has told us otherwise.

There is safety in numbness– there is solace in sleep.

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.

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.

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.

Today Today I am not in my skin. My body cannot contain me. I am spilling out and over, like a rogue wave on the shore. Today I can't keep myself from feeling like I don't have a friend in the world. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pick myself up off the floor. My demons are lying in wait, they are grinning in the shadows, their polished fangs glinting, knowing today, it will be an easy kill. But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.

You forsake all that you hold dear, for a dream that is not your own; you would rather live a lie than live your life alone Universe of Us and on thoughtcatalog

But when I look at you, I just know instinctively, that despite the odds against you and although life will always find a way to test you, someday you’ll have everything you want. Your ending will be a happy one.

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.

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.

The One I don’t want you to love me because I’m good for you, because I say and do all the right things. Because I am everything you have been looking for. I want to be the one that you didn’t see coming. The one who gets under your skin. Who makes you unsteady. Who makes you question everything you have ever believed about love. Who makes you feel reckless and out of control. The one you are infuriatingly and inexplicably drawn to. I don’t want to be the one who tucks you into bed—I want to be the reason why you can’t sleep at night.

To know him If you want to know his heart, pay close attention to what angers him. If you want to know his mind, listen for the words that linger in his silence. If you want to know his soul, look to where his eyes are when you catch him smiling.

And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild. My love is not a testament to my surrender. I will show you just how much I love you, with the inward draw of every breath—the collective sigh of the world and all its despair. But I will never give you what you want in chains.

Choose Love My mother once said to me there are two kinds of men you’ll meet. The first will give you the life you want and the second will give you the love you desire. If you’re one of the lucky few, you will find both in the one person. But if you ever find yourself having to choose between the two, then always choose love.

We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?

My demons are lying in wait, they are grinning in the shadows, their polished fangs glinting, knowing today, it will be an easy kill. But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.

But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.

I loved you once and now I must spend my whole life explaining why.

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.

A Lesson There is a girl who smiles all the time, to show the world that she is fine. A boy who surrounds himself with friends, wishes that his life would end. For those that say they never knew — the saddest leave the least of clues.

In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.

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?

I remember the first time I saw my favorite painting, how its fragile beauty caught my breath. And I thought if the artist had painted just one brushstroke less, he could have told an entirely different story. If he began with a smear of red instead of blue, it could have been a chapter instead of an era.

To Know Him If you want to know his heart, pay close attention to what angers him. If you want to know his mind, listen for the words that linger in his silence. If you want to know his soul, look at where his eyes are when you catch him smiling.

It was a gentle love, a tactile love. It was all hands and lips and hearts in tandem. There was motion in our bodies and emotion in our discourse. We were a symphony of melody and melancholy. When you find peace in another’s presence, there is no mistaken.

Searching for the one thing, that would set my sad soul free.

Some days I feel like my soul is being pulled in one direction and my heart in another.

When was the last time you felt like someone knew you and not the person you've been pretending to be. When was the last time you felt like yourself.

I missed you today. Between waking and sleeping, I thought of you.

Someone Like You Do you think there is the possibility of you and I? In this lifetime, is that too much to hope for? There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile. And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known this feeling, this wonderful sense of optimism. It is something I can always keep close to me—to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine. No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in the world.

Moment of Truth One day I looked at you and it occurred to me how beautiful your smile was. I heard music in your laughter—I saw poetry in your words. You asked me why I had that look on my face, as though a shadow had fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, dark with revelation. The second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.

You can’t borrow from the future, to make up for the past

Jump "Don't you get it?" he said. "The ones who are afraid of heights don't trust themselves enough to jump.

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.

I wish the love I have come to meet, was not an inch within my reach. I wish the prize was so far-flung, that I would not cry if it were not won. I wish the dream was placed so high that my panicked heart— would dare not try.

I Loved Him I loved how his eyes danced merrily, and the gentle way he spoke; the way he filled my aimless days, with bitterness and hope. I loved him as I fell to sleep, and each morning as I woke; I loved him with all my wayward heart— until the day it broke.

Impossibility Do you know the feeling when you’re so happy that you can’t imagine ever being sad again? Or when you’re so sad that you no longer believe you could ever be happy? When you tell me you love me, I always think of that strange emotion—that feeling of impossibility. You say you love me, and you can’t imagine a future without me in it, yet all I can think of is how you must have felt the same way once about someone else.

There was a feeling of inevitability when I met you. The sense that we would be together; that there would be a moment when you would look at me in a certain way, and we could cross the threshold from friendship into something so much more. We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given? I think you were always meant to know me a little better than anyone else. And our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. I know there is terrible distance between us. But our bodies are made of celestial light, and we are hurtling through space and time, toward the most beautiful collision.

We were born to walk this world in intersecting lines.

I know you were born with your heart already broken. But the world began in pieces and somehow made itself whole.

Tell me that story again--the one where the world ends how it began with a boy who loves a girl and a girl who loves a boy. And she is deaf and he is blind and he tells her he loves her over and over and she writes him every day but never hears a thing back.

The Girl She Was She doesn't feel like herself. Not anymore. she was different once. Now she is like a watered-down version, pale and thin. She slips through the cracks unnoticed. She fades into the background, afraid of saying the wrong thing. She grows sharp edges and wont let anyone get close to her. She doesn't know how she came to be like this, how she ended up here. she only remembers the way she used to be—wild and reckless. Bold and unapologetic.

Tomorrow I’ll cry for all the world, for all the things gone wrong; I will cry for every tethered bird, who has lost her joyful song. Tomorrow I’ll cry for every heart, that has broken, like boughs, in two, but today, my love, you have my tears— today I will cry for you.

That was the moment you should have told her what your heart was telling you. If you had allowed it, she could have been your whole world. All you had to do was open the door. All you had to say was, come in.

Someone Like You Do you think there is the possibility of you and I? In this lifetime, is that too much to hope for? There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile. And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known this feeling, this wonderful sense of optimism. It is something I can always keep close to me—to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine. No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in the world.

I think there is a sense of ownership in knowing, isn’t there? You let people in, and they claim parts of you—they fly their flag over uncharted territory and from then onward—you cease to belong wholly to yourself.

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.

She walks the earth freely, yet her feet never touch the ground. Many hands will reach for her, but she cannot be anchored. She belongs to no one, to nothing, to nowhere. When you meet her, you will recognize her for what she is--a free spirit, a wandering star. She will fit in your arms like she was made to be there. And she will show you what it means to hold something you can never hold on to.

Possibility of Love 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.

When did you stop caring? he asked. When did you start noticing? she replied.

Salve “You’ve made your choice, and there’s nothing I can do,” she said. “I don’t think you want me in your life anymore, and I have to find a way to live with that. You said you would still be there for me, but I don’t want to be a mere courtesy—a salve for your guilt. 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.

My mind, a Venn diagram. You, the overlap and the intersect; a pulsating glimmer—omnipresent, a lighthouse with its glowing breath. You are the stone that skirts the river, that skips along its crystal plane; a surface skimmed by concentric shimmer, and trembles with the touch of rain. You are worlds that spin in orbit, a star who rose and fell; infinity summoned for audit— a penny toss in the wishing well.

Self-Love Searching for the one thing, That would set my sad soul free. In time I stumbled upon it, An inner calm and peace; And now I am beginning, To see and believe, In who I am becoming- And all I’ve yet to be.

Moments That's the tragedy of growing up—knowing you'll run out of feeling something new for the first time. the sad things is you only get so many of those moments—a handful if you're lucky—and then you spend the rest of your life turning them over in your head. I think that's why you meant as much to me as you did, why I held on for so long. I didn't know if back then, but you were the last time I would ever feel anything new.

It was a kind love, a selfless love. I was a dreamer, and you were a raveler. We met at the crossroads. I saw love in your smile, and I recognized it for the firs time in my life. But you had a plane to catch, and I was already home.

When was the last time you said I love you and meant it. When was the last time you heard those words back. When was the last time you felt like someone knew you and not the person you’ve been pretending to be. When was the last time you felt like yourself. When was the last time you heard someone say his name. When was the last time it killed you to hear it. When was the last time you felt love well up in you like a newly struck spring. Like an outpouring of the soul. When was the last time he called you beautiful. When was the first.

I was loved in my dreams last night. It echoed through me like thunder—I felt it through and through. When I woke up, I couldn’t shake the feeling of his arms around me and the sound of his voice, already half forgotten. The loss was indescribable. And I couldn’t help that feeling of certainty that I have felt this way before. Somewhere in time, throughout the ages, I was loved—I was loved and my eyes were wide open.

And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known the feeling, this wonderful sense of optimism. It is something I can always keep close to me--to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine. No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in this world.

Now I know being close to you was never about the proximity

My Heartache If this is my heartache, then let it be mine to endure. Permit me to feel it in its entirety. Don’t tell me how much of you I am allowed to love.

you would rather live a lie - than live your life alone

Your Words "Remember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.

-When did you stop caring? he asked. -When did you start noticing? she replied.

You think falling in love is about holding on, but it isn't. It is about hands gripping the edge of the world and letting go, one finger at a time. Take a deep breath--here comes the drop. I know it's your first time here, but soon you will get used to the motion; the headlong dive into the deep. Just go with it. You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole.

If only you could go back to that day; to the one where she stood before you, gentle and hopeful—waiting for you to make up your mind. When you had thought to yourself that nothing could ever look as beautiful. That was the moment you should have told her what your heart was telling you. If you had allowed it, she could have been your whole world. All you had to do was open the door. All you had to say was, 'come in'.

Her Time She has been feeling it for a while now, that sense of awakening. There is a gentle rage simmering inside her, and it is getting stronger by the day. She will hold it close to her - she will nurture it and let it grow. She won't let anyone take it away from her. It is her rocket fuel and finally, she is going places. She can feel it down to her very core - this is her time. She will not only climb mountains - she will move them too.

We were losing track of the days and nights, counting fireflies ad waiting for the sun to come around. I was so addicted to you, I remember the exquisite fatigue as I fought off sleep for another hit--another line of conversation.

If you want to know his heart, pay attention to what angers him. If you want to know his mind, listen for the words that linger in his silence. If you want to know his soul, look at where his eyes are when you catch him smiling.

The Redwood Tree My father once told me a story about an old redwood tree—how she stood tall and proud—her sprawling limbs clothed in emerald green. With a smile, he described her as a mere sapling, sheltered by her elders and basking in the safety of the warm, dappled light. But as this tree grew taller, she found herself at the mercy of the cruel wind and the vicious rain. Together, they tore relentlessly at her pretty boughs, until she felt as though her heart would split in two. After a long, thoughtful pause, my father turned to me and said, “My daughter, one day the same thing will happen to you. And when that time comes, remember the redwood tree. Do not worry about the cruel wind or the vicious rain—but do as that tree did and just keep growing.

I Will Cry Tomorrow I’ll cry for all the world, for all the things gone wrong; I will cry for every tethered bird, who has lost her joyful song. Tomorrow I’ll cry for every heart, that has broken, like boughs, in two, but today, my love, you have my tears— today I will cry for you.

Procession He used to ask me all the time if I was okay. As though he never knew for sure. He would ask me when he was tired or frustrated or when he felt helpless. He would ask me when he was afraid. He asked me that same question, long after we stopped being lovers—when we became something less yet somehow more. Are you okay? He would whisper on the phone late at night, when his girlfriend was asleep or had gone to her mother’s for the weekend. Are you okay? He hasn’t asked me in years, but I know he still thinks it. I know the question still reverberates in his mind like a broken record and he will keep looking for answers long after there is nothing left to appease him. It was always the same question, over and over again. Like the start of a procession. And it took me years to recognize the unsaid words that marched silently behind. Are you okay; because I love you. Are you okay; because I need you. Are you okay; because I don’t know how to live without you.

One day I looked at you and it occurred to me how beautiful your smile was. I heard music in your laughter--I saw poetry in your words. You asked me why I had that look on my face, as though a shadow had fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, dark with revelation. The second I tried to tell myself I wasn't in love was the moment I realized I was.

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? Are you like me? Do you live with the dial turned up at full volume? Can you taste the salt of the sea when you're miles inland and the ocean feels like a fractured memory? Are you like me? Are you alive or just pretending?

I often think of where you are and if you're happy. Are you in love? I hope she is gentle. I know you and I are the same in that way--we bruise a little more easily than most. You see, our souls were made in the same breath. I know I'm running late--I'm sorry. Things haven't worked out the way I planned. But believe me when I tell you I am on my way. Until then think of me, dream of me and I will do the same. One day I will learn your name, and I will write it somewhere on this page. And we will realize that we have known each other all along.

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." "But I don't know if I can make a difference. It feels like I am screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one can hear me. No one cares. How can I change anything if I'm completely powerless?" "You may be powerless now, but there will be a time when you won't be. Don't you see? And that's the time for you to be loud, to tell the world about the changes you want to see, to set them in motion.

Now I know being close to you was never about the proximity.

Today I am not in my skin. My body cannot contain me. I am spilling out and over, like a rogue wave on the shore. Today I can't keep myself from feeling like I don't have a friend in the world. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pick myself up off the floor. My demons are lying in wait, they are grinning in the shadows, their polished fangs glinting, knowing today, it will be an easy kill. But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.

When When did you stop caring? he asked. When did you start noticing? she replied.

Nine Lives Does the past ever appear before you, like a bolt in the blue? Something or someone from many lives ago. It knocks you right off your feet, just when you thought you’d found solid ground. But it’s only an illusion, isn’t it? All this time, the plates have been shifting beneath you and the world keeps spinning round and round like the plates in a circus act. Yet you still can’t leave it behind; that one thing that was kept from you. No matter what you are given, it still scratches at the corner of your mind, like a cat begging to be let in.

Until then, think of me, dream of me and I will do the same. One day I will learn your name, and I will write it somewhere on this page. And we will realize that we have known each other all along.

my heart is like a time capsule—it keeps safe the memory of you

the truth is there are pieces of me in everything i have written to you, for you. after all, what is a poet but a composite of her love letters

you only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole

He said loving me was like seeing the ocean for the first time. Watching the waves crash senselessly against the rocks, over and over. Grabbing fistfuls of sand as it trickled through his fingers, like my hair, brittle as ebony, strong and taut like the bumps of his knuckles. He said it was like swallowing his first mouthful of the sea — the sudden shock of betrayal.

I wish I could have a day with you, where the sun never went past noon. Or a night, where the stars could go on forming their constellations; until the sky was filled with stories of how I loved you.