When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.
LANG LEAVAnd if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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I thought you were a keeper, I wish I could have kept you.
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But when I look at you, I just know instinctively, that despite the odds against you and although life will always find a way to test you, someday you’ll have everything you want. Your ending will be a happy one.
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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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I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.
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Most people want to save the entire world. It’s a lovely thought, and I’m not saying it’s not a noble pursuit-but it’s impossible to save everyone. You just have to pick your little corner of the world and focus your energy there. That’s the only way you will ever make a difference.
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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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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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It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.
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It is the mark of a great poet to write words that feel as though they have stood witness to your most intimate memory of love.
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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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Where the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we’re taught.
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Our love story comes to me in waves, in movie stills and long summer afternoons spent under a sky of incessant blue. I still think of your eyes in flashes of color, your hands in a frenetic, feverish blur-your smile a mosaic of light and shadow. I still find myself lost in those moments of abstraction.
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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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And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.
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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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You said my sadness was like the sun, beautiful from a distance but it hurt you too much to come closer.
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Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.
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My heart is like a time capsule-it keeps safe the memory of you. I know it’s harder with you gone than if you had never been here at all-but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
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Some days it felt like a burden, to smile for you. To keep the lines of worry from etching into your forehead.
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I had no way of knowing, when I was sitting alone in that tiny bedroom, that in just a few short months, I would meet the love of my life: a man who lived across the ocean from me, in a little house by the sea.
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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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But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.
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You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.
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When in truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.
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Be patient. Your voice will find its way into the world, not in one loud instance but a steady trickle that turns into a deluge.
LANG LEAV