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I can’t believe how hard it is. The pain is indescribable. It’s like I’ve been turned into sandstone and my insides are being slowly hollowed out by a chisel and mallet.

Lang Leav

Take me someplace where I can feel something-I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about.
LANG LEAV

Feeling Heart Heart Broken Myself Name Place Writing
I was there in your forgetting, until I was forgot.
LANG LEAV

Forgetting Myself
Because sooner or later, all kinds of love – crazy love, wild love- fade into the same thing. The love becomes old and predictable -safe.
LANG LEAV

Age Growth Kind Love Old Prediction Safety Soon Time Wild
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.
LANG LEAV

Finding Patience Voice World Yourself
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 LEAV

Darkness Moments Ourselves Vulture World
It was beautifully worded and painfully read; the things that were written, were those never said.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Myself Pain Reading Word
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.
LANG LEAV

Book Fashion Love Myself Point Time Togetherness Universe
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.
LANG LEAV

Known Love Man Miracle Myself Relationship
I don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.
LANG LEAV

Deep Myself People Poet Sadness Thinking Writing
I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.
LANG LEAV

Desire Enough Myself
I love you, I do – you have my word. You have all my words.
LANG LEAV

I Love You Word Yourself
Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.
LANG LEAV

Live Ourselves Strange True
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 LEAV

Beautiful Color Dimension Existence Fragment Glass Greatness Heart Broken Memories Ourselves Source
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.
LANG LEAV

Himself Love Myself World Writing
Remember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.
LANG LEAV

Forget Power Remember Word
What I feel for you is at once the expression of language and the absence of it.
LANG LEAV

Absence Expression Feeling Language Myself

I can’t believe how hard it is. The pain is indescribable. It’s like I’ve been turned into sandstone and my insides are being slowly hollowed out by a chisel and mallet.

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I can’t believe how hard it is. The pain is indescribable. It’s like I’ve been turned into sandstone and my insides are being slowly hollowed out by a chisel and mallet.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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