You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole.
LANG LEAVI do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?
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I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.
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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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Now that you have it all, do you ever wish you could go back to when you had it simple?
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Have you ever loved a rose, and bled against her thorns; and swear each night to let her go, then love her more by dawn.
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Remember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.
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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.
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I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them.
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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.
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We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock in unison.
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The less you speak, the more weight your words will carry when you do.
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I think there is a sense of ownership in knowing, isn’t there? You let people in, and they claim parts of you-they fly their flag over uncharted territory and from then onward-you cease to belong wholly to yourself.
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Here’s the story of my life. Hoping they would care about me or wishing they wouldn’t care so much.
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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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In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.
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That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.
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There is a certain quality to words that when strung in a certain way-has an almost hypnotic effect.
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Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.
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For me, that was the death of the word, or; because now, there is no other. It was the end of the word, and; for I love only you.
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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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I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
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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.
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You talk to me in riddles, I will answer you in rhyme. I loved you for a little- I will love you for all time.
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Loving you is like being ten years old again, scaling a tree with my eyes bright and skyward, wanting only to get higher and higher, without a thought of how I would get back down.
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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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Where the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we’re taught.
LANG LEAV