I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.
LANG LEAVThe ache will always be there, but the intensity will fade, and you’ll find other beautiful things to fill your days with.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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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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That’s the thing about happiness. It doesn’t require justification.
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The less you speak, the more weight your words will carry when you do.
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If they were meant to be in your life, nothing cover ever make them leave. If they weren’t, nothing in the world could make them stay.
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I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
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Give me something I can write about.
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you cannot control the depth of a wound another inflicts upon you.
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In a sea of strangers, you’ve longed to know me. Your life spent sailing to my shores.
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I was coming to the end of a difficult period in my life, though when the end isn’t in plain sight, you don’t realize how close you are.
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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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There is a savagery to what you feel. It eats you up inside. But you will get through it; you don’t need his mouth to placate you. You don’t need his hands to untangle the butterfly knot in your heart. Your love is a fire that will burn itself out. Let it ravage you.
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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.
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It’s so dark right now, I can’t see any light around me. That’s because the light is coming from you. You can’t see it but everyone else can.
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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 like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.
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I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once meant to you.
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I did not know that it was love until I knew.
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If you love my heart and mind, then you would love me, for all that I’m. But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.
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How many people have we known all our lives and never once loved. How many people have we loved and never known.
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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.
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You must emerge from adversity, scathed but victorious to tell your story and, in turn, light the way for others.
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Life has a way of working itself out. You’ll see.
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And I sighed and wept for what could not be–and for all that could have been.
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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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In cemeteries of memories, our love will lie in caskets.
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Knowing sleep will set it right – if you were not to wake.
LANG LEAV