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 LEAVI 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.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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Because someday, in one way or another, you will be taken from me or I you.
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I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.
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Understand that we must lose our way, over and over, before we can find the best version of ourselves.
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But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.
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Whatever path you choose will take you to the same destination. The only thing that should guide you is your intuition.
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Before I fell in live with words, with setting skies and singing birds – it was you I fell in love with first.
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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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I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel the constant need to explain myself. I don’t want to live in a world like that either.
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Love is a dormant volcano, lying in wait, biding its time.
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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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I’m the one having to pander to you. I’m sick of being the one doing all the chasing. I’m not asking you to make me a priority – I know you’ve got a lot going on. But at least meet me halfway.
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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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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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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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Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.
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I know there is a terrible distance between us. But our bodies are made of stardust, and we are hurtling through space and time, toward the most beautiful collision.
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Hands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love – love is you.
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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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Yes, we took it all for granted-but isn’t that such a blessed thing? When you’re not even thinking about what you have, because you never imagine you someday won’t.
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Give me something I can write about.
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In the wrong hands, your past is a weapon.
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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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To love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.
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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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There is one who you belong to, whose love- there is no song for.
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I loved you once and now I must spend my whole life explaining why.
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