black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

Lang Leav

I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.
LANG LEAV

Award Heart Broken Learning Myself Prize Writing Yourself
In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.
LANG LEAV

Break Up Fade Love Lying Memories Ourselves Time
Here’s to those who wish us well, and the rest can go to hell!
LANG LEAV

Hell Ourselves Rest
I don’t know how you are so familiar to me-or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before-in another time, a different place, some other existence.
LANG LEAV

Difference Different Existence Feeling Impossible Known Love Myself Place Remember Smile
Some pieces will sing to your present, others may echo of your past, and the rest could whisper of your future.
LANG LEAV

Future Past Pieces Present Whisper Yourself
And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.
LANG LEAV

Hard Love Myself Run Wild
There is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way-has an almost hypnotic effect.
LANG LEAV

Certain Power Quality Way Word
I’m a stranger in my own life.
LANG LEAV

Life Myself Stranger
Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.
LANG LEAV

Myself Night Remember Song
He and I When words run dry, he does not try, nor do I. We are on par. He just is, I just am, and we just are.
LANG LEAV

Existence Myself Silence
I will celebrate this life of mine, with or without you. The moon does not need the sun to tell her she is already whole.
LANG LEAV

Celebration Life Moon Myself Sun Whole
I know love because I am in love. Because of how long I’ve loved. Because of the man I love.
LANG LEAV

Known Love Man Myself
What is she like? I was told – she is a melancholy soul.
LANG LEAV

Melancholy Sadness Soul
Strange how it mattered so much, when now it matters so little.
LANG LEAV

Important Strange Value
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.
LANG LEAV

Build Home Kind Strong Stubborn Yourself
To never do the things I’ve done that once had led to my undoing.
LANG LEAV

Action Destruction Myself Work

That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Lang Leav Quotes