That night, we talked the way old friends do, with candor and ease.
LANG LEAVThere is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way-has an almost hypnotic effect.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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You are a writer bleeding words onto a page. And the ones who hate you will trample on that page. And the ones who love you will cut you, to keep you bleeding.
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It should be my right to mourn someone who has yet to leave this world but no longer wants to be part of mine.
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Don’t you get it?” he said. “The ones who are afraid of heights don’t trust themselves enough to jump.
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I look for you, the way I was taught to look both ways when crossing the road. Uptight and wary, bracing myself for something I know could break me.
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Because someday, in one way or another, you will be taken from me or I you.
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That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
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For she is his poet, and he is her poetry.
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I just hope you realize how much you mean to me. I just wish I could remind you of how beautiful you are. I’m sorry I haven’t told you in so long. But please don’t think I have given up on you. I will never give up on you. My arms are wide open. There is always a place for you here.
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But you’re not the kind of girl who builds her house from sticks; you are a fortress, stubborn and strong. Do not give away the keys to the kingdom to anyone less than a king.
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If you love my heart and mind, then you would love me, for all that I’m. But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.
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Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.
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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.
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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.
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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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Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
LANG LEAV