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We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.

Lang Leav

A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
LANG LEAV

Book Point Reading Time Travel
Knowing sleep will set it right – if you were not to wake.
LANG LEAV

Known Right Sleep Wake Up Yourself
Remember, your words are your power. Never forget your words.
LANG LEAV

Forget Power Remember Word
The things that seem to matter less, are the ones we put on show.
LANG LEAV

Oneself Show Value
The time may not be prime for us, though you are a special person. We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock, in unison.
LANG LEAV

Clock Different Person Prime Time Yourself
To love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.
LANG LEAV

Dare Despair Hope Love
If you love me for what you see, only your eyes would be in love with me.
LANG LEAV

Eyes Love Myself See Yourself
I have buried myself so deep in my words that sometimes I can’t tell if I am the person writing or the one hiding between the lines.
LANG LEAV

Bury Hide Myself Person Poem Word Writing
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.
LANG LEAV

Calm Love Peace Slow Sunrise Warm Winter Yourself
The distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.
LANG LEAV

Break Up Distance Measurement Myself
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.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Give Up Hope Myself Open Place Realize Reminder
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
Here and now I love you, for the moment you have my heart. But you are entitled to my future, you have no ownership of my past.
LANG LEAV

Future Heart I Love You Moments Myself Ownership Past
Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.
LANG LEAV

Himself Love Myself World Writing
Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.
LANG LEAV

Claim Literature Meaning Word
I’m a stranger in my own life.
LANG LEAV

Life Myself Stranger

We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.

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We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Lang Leav Quotes