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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

Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.
LANG LEAV

Be Yourself Herself Identity
When in truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.
LANG LEAV

Pain Quite Touch Transparent Truth Yourself
Isn’t it strange how much of our lives are interchangeable, how little is truly ours.
LANG LEAV

Live Ourselves Strange True
And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.
LANG LEAV

Hard Love Myself Run Wild
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
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.
LANG LEAV

Blood Page Writing Yourself
Doesn’t your soul remain the age you were when you first fell in love?
LANG LEAV

Age Fall In Love Soul Yourself
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
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.
LANG LEAV

Name Oneself See Stop Thinking Yourself
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.
LANG LEAV

Breathing Gift Happiness Herself Imagination Indescribable Kind Life
It was pure bliss and absolute torture at the same time. I was in daze, as if my brain had suddenly packed up and gone on vacation. I could barely string words together in a sentence.
LANG LEAV

Bliss Brain Myself Togetherness Torture Vacation
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
Who you love and who loves you back determines so much in your life.
LANG LEAV

Determination Life Love Relationship Yourself
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
The briefest moment shared with you-the longest on my mind.
LANG LEAV

Brief Mindset Moments Myself Share
Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.
LANG LEAV

Claim Literature Meaning Word

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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