Lullabies Lang Leav Quotes

I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars.

Acceptance There are things I miss that I shouldn't, and those I don't that I should. Sometimes we want what we couldn't— sometimes we love who we could.

Where are you?” She asked. “I have been searching all my life.” “Stop looking for me,” Love replied, “and I will find you.

I love you, I do - you have my word. You have all my words.

Time You were the one I wanted most to stay. But time could not be kept at bay. The more it goes, the more it's gone— the more it takes away.

I wanted everything because I didn't want anything enough.

I loved you more than loved allowed

When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.

I drew him in my world; I write him in my lines, I want to be his girl, he was never meant as mine. I drew him in my world; He is always on my mind; I draw his every line. It hurts when he's unkind. I drew him in my world; I draw him all the time, but I don't know where to draw the line.

Strange how it mattered so much, when now it matters so little.

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.

Tell me if you ever cared, if a single thought for me was spared. Tell me when you lie in bed, do you think of something I once said. Tell me if you hurt at all, when someone says my name with yours. It may have been so long ago, but I would give the world to know.

The End "I don't know what to say," he said. "It's okay," she replied, "I know what we are - and I know what we're not.

If any person claims to have loved twice in all their life — they have not loved at all.

Regrets Timing is irrelevant when two people are meant for each other. It's what I once believed. But we met during a time when I was such a mess, when I still had so much to figure out. How could I have known how crucial every word, every action was or how losing you would be something I would always regret? If only you could have met me now, how different it would be. How much I have changed. How I have grown. I learned so much from all the mistakes I made with you. I just wish I had made them with someone else.

I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars. I wonder where you could be now, for years I’ve not said your name out loud. And longer since I called you mine— time has passed for you and I. But I have learnt to live without, I do not mind— I still love you anyhow.

We’re kids, aren't we? Yes, kids with grown-up powers.

Here are the things I want for you - I want you to be happy. I want someone else to know the warmth of your smile, to feel the way I did when I was in your presence. I want you to know how happy you once made me and though you really did hurt me, in the end, I was better for it. I don't know if what we had was love, but if it wasn't, I hope to never fall in love. Because of you, I know I am too fragile to bear it. 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. Finally, I want you to know how sorry I am for pushing you away when I had only meant to bring you closer. And if I ever felt like home to you, it was because you were safe with me. - I want you to know that most of all.

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.

Which is why I am not here to tell you tomorrow will be a new day. That the sun will go on shining. Or there are plenty of fish in the sea. What I will tell you is this; it’s okay to be hurting as much as you are. What you are feeling is not only completely valid but necessary—because it makes you so much more human. And though I can’t promise it will get better any time soon, I can tell you that it will—eventually. For now, all you can do is take your time. Take all the time you need.

Three Questions What was it like to love him? asked Gratitude. It was like being exhumed, I answered. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance. What was it like to be loved in return? asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. What was it like to lose him? asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded: It was like hearing every good-bye ever said to me—said all at once.

If a boy ever says, you remind me of someone--don't fall in love with him. You will never be anything more than second best.

And I sighed and wept for what could not be--and for all that could have been.

I loved you more than love allowed

One day you will be nostalgic for today.

Or that one person whom you rarely speak with, who can always be found right where you left them. You carry their smile with you like a talisman—for whatever reason, their presence in your life will always bring the promise of better days.

The Saddest Thing There was someone I knew, a long time ago. I was so in love with him I couldn’t see straight. The saddest thing is, he felt the same way about me. It was easy in the beginning. All we had to do was laugh at the same things and love took care of the rest. I had never felt so connected to another person. He would always say it felt as though I was made for him. How glad he was to have met me. We were so sure of what we felt. We should have held tight, onto that certainty. There is never one particular reason why two people are pulled apart. All these years later, I have stopped looking for answers. I know better now, that love is never a guarantee. Not when you have the rest of the world to contend with. Sometimes you have to step back and look at these things from a philosophical standpoint. And I know loving him has taught me something about myself, it has broadened my understanding of the world. And if it has done the same for him, then it wasn’t all in vain.

The words I heard from you today, are said when there’s nothing left to say.   What I would give to make you stay,   I would give it all away.

Forget her tattered memories, or the pages others took; you are her ever after— the hero of her book.

...you cannot control the depth of a wound another inflicts upon you.

Had I known, I would not have left you, alone beneath those stars, on the night when I last saw you, not knowing it was the last.

Tell Me Tell me if you ever cared, if a single thought for me was spared. Tell me when you lie in bed, do you think of something I once said. Tell me if you hurt at all, when someone says my name with yours. It may have been so long ago, but I would give the world to know.

I have happened in so many places, to so many people - the essence of me lives on in these nuances, these moments.

We’re kids, aren’t we? Yes, kids with grown-up powers.

She would fondly call him her Frankenstein, this man who was a patchwork of all the things she had ever longed for.

The greatest heartache comes from loving another soul, they said, beyond reason, beyond doubt, with no hope of salvation.

Loving You I saw him the other day. His arms around another girl, his eyes when met with mine - were low in their recognition. I wonder if he remembers what I once told him. I will love you forever. He had smiled at me sadly before giving his reply. But I am so afraid you may one day stop. Now all these years later, I am the one who is afraid. Because I love him, I still do. I haven't stopped, I don't think I can. I don't think I ever will.

You were none, and now you're all; your worth will rise, the more I fall.

Everything that happened here happened long ago.

Now all these years later, I am the one who is afraid. Because I love him, I still do. I haven’t stopped. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I ever will.

Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.

His Kiss: He has me at his every whim; everything starts with him. To all the boys I used to kiss— everything stops with his.

Losing You I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.

I drew him in my world; I draw him all the time, but I don't know where to draw the line

Thoughts of You There were times when I was with him and it was too much. Does that make sense? When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it's so intense you can barely stand to be with him. During those moments, I wanted so desperately to leave - to go home, walk into my bedroom, and shut the door behind me. Crawl into bed and lay there in the dark, tracing the outline of my lips with my fingers - replaying everything he said, everything we did. I wanted to be left alone - with nothing other than my thought of him.

There is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way--has an almost hypnotic effect.

When every dream has turned to dust, and your highest hopes no longer soar. When places you once yearned to see, grow further away on distant shores. When every night you close your eyes, and long inside for something more. Remember this and only this, if nothing else you can recall— There was a life a girl once led, where you were loved the most of all.

Love a girl who writes and live her many lives; you have yet to find her, beneath her words of guise.

He gave her such gifts - not the kind that were put in boxes, but the sort that filled her with imagination, breathing indescribable happiness into her life.

The glass bottle does not know its own contents. It has no idea whether it is a vessel for the most delicious apple cider, a lovingly crafted wine, or a bitter poison.

It was from a very young age that I fell in love with this wonderful artifact--the turn of the first page is almost like a sacred ritual to me. Whenever I walk into a library, it is never without some degree of reverence.

My heart however, was having a serious case of selective hearing.

Her eyes, a closed book, her heart, a locked door; she writes melancholy like she's lived it before.

There are people I will never know and their lives will still ensue; those that could have loved me so and I'll never wonder who.

It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

Anything and everything, the two almost the same--everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.

I want you to know how sorry I am for pushing you away when I had only meant to bring you closer.

I loved you more than love allowed.

For me, that was the death of the word, or; because now, there is no other. It was the end of the word, and; for I love only you.

I did not know that it was love until I knew.

Because someday, in one way or another, you will be taken from me or I you.

My indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough. Then I met you and it changed me. For once in my life, there was something I wanted. So much.

I don’t know what to say,' he said.  'It’s okay,' she replied, 'I know what we are—and I know what we’re not.

Why do you write?' he asked. 'So I can take my love for you and give it to the world,' I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.

The memory of you is fading, a little at a time, and I can feel myself forgetting.

As a little girl, she would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. She held them in her hands and breathed them in --wanting so much to be part of their world...she learned that poets were among the damned, cursed to commiserate over their loss, outstretched hands -- hands that will never know the weight of what they seek.

Our love- a dead star To the world it burns brightly- But it died long ago.

There are many words you never said, that others dreamed you someday would; each of us for all our days— will live our lives misunderstood.

But as I sit and wait and fear and watch the hours go— Everything that happened here happened long ago.

The End “I don’t know what to say,” he said.   “It’s okay,” she replied, “I know what we are—      and I know what we’re not.

He deftly dealt his swiftest blow--I fell further than, I was meant to go.

If a boy ever says, you remind me of someone—don’t fall in love with him. You will never be anything more than second best.

Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.

Her poetry is written on the ghost of trees, whispered on the lips of lovers. As a little girl, she would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. She held them in her hands and breathed them in -- wanting so much to be part of their world... It was on her sixteenth birthday that she first fell in love. With a boy who brought her red roses and white lies. When he broke her heart, she cried for days. Then hopeful, she sat with a pen in her hand, poised over the blank white sheet, but it refused to draw blood... She learned too late that poets are among the damned, cursed to commiserate over their loss, to reach with outstretched hands -- hands that will never know the weight of what they seek.

Yours was the melody she wanted to learn; it clung to her lips, in silence it yearned.

My name is no longer a name, it is a call.

I don’t know if what we had was love, but if it wasn’t, I hope never to fall in love. Because of you, I know I am too fragile to bear it.

Where the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we're taught.

Because losing someone isn’t an occasion or an event. It doesn’t just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.

Her poetry is written on the ghost of trees, whispered on the lips of lovers. As a little girl, she would drift in and out of libraries filled with dead poets and their musky scent. She held them in her hands and breathed them in --wanting so much to be part of their world...she learned that poets were among the damned, cursed to commiserate over their loss, outstretched hands -- hands that will never know the weight of what they seek.

Our love- a dead star to the world it burns brightly- But it died long ago.

Three summers passed of sun-drenched dreams, of snow white clouds and you and me.

...but how could I have stopped him from taking what was already his?

There are things that I miss that I shouldn’t, and things that I don’t that I should. Sometimes we want what we couldn’t, sometimes we love who we could. — Lang Leav, “Acceptance,” Lullabies. (Andrews McMeel Publishing September 16, 2014)

PERFECT He said to me "You're perfect, and I want you to be mine." But I felt I wasn't worthy and to be perfect, I'll need time. I knew it would be worth it, I could be better if I tried, then he got tired of waiting- and I watched my chance go by.

I wrote your name over and over—on scraps of paper, in books and on the back of my wrists. I carved it like sacred markings into trees and the tops of my thighs. Years went by and the scars have vanished, but the sting has not left me. Sometimes when I read a book, parts will lift from the pages in an anagram of your name. Like a code to remind me it’s not over. Like dyslexia in reverse.

Shipwrecks The wild seas for which she longed, lay far beyond the shore. The shipwreck that her lips had sung, meant she never left at all. It wasn't 'til the tide had won, that she learned it could not hurt her. It was the furthest she had gone - and she never went much further.

Tell Me Tell me if you ever cared, if a single thought for me was spared. Tell me when you lie in bed, do you think of something I once said. It may have been so long ago, but I would give the world to know.

Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.

I barely know you, she says, voice heavy with sleep. I don't know your favorite color or how you like your coffee. What keeps you up at night or the lullabies that sing you to sleep. I don't know a thing about the first girl you loved, why you stopped loving her or why you still do. I don't know how many millions of cells you are made of and if they have any idea they are a part of something so beautiful and unimaginably perfect. I may not have a clue about any of these things but this--she places her hand on his chest--this I know.

I don't know if what we had was love, but if it wasn't , I hope never to fall in love. Because of you, I know I am too fragile to bear it.

The path from you extending, I could not see it's course--- or the closer to you I was getting, the further from you I'd walked. For I was moving in a circle, not a line as I had thought--- the steps I took away from you, were taking me towards.

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. You know he is a symbol of your weakness, your Kryptonite. How he rushes in like wildfire and burns through everything you worked so hard to build since he last left you in ashes.