You can create something that is pure genius, but you have to get your timing right.
LANG LEAVI know how hard it is to have to love someone in secret.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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Who you love and who loves you back determines so much in your life.
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She can feel it down to her very core-this is her time. She will not only climb mountains-she will move them too.
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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.
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I was there in your forgetting, until I was forgot.
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I loved you more than love was allowed.
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Because sooner or later, all kinds of love – crazy love, wild love- fade into the same thing. The love becomes old and predictable -safe.
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What I feel for you is at once the expression of language and the absence of it.
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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.
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It was words that I fell for. In the end, it was words that broke my heart.
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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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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.
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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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Like time suspended, a wound unmended – you and I. We had no ending, no said goodbye; For all my life, I’ll wonder why.
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When love finds you, it doesn’t come as crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise-where the promise of summer shines out from within.
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In the wrong hands, your past is a weapon.
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I thought you were a keeper, I wish I could have kept you.
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you cannot control the depth of a wound another inflicts upon you.
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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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That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
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Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.
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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.
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It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me. “Do you love me, I ask?” In your hesitation I found my answer.
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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.
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But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.
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I don’t think about myself as much as I used to. I guess that’s a good thing. I only think about the things that are missing from me.
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I have given so much to things that weren’t worth my time. When all along, it’s the people I love that I should have carried.
LANG LEAV