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.
LANG LEAVSometimes 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.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock in unison.
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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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If you have to be with someone at all, then be with someone who makes you feel like you are still in control.
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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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If a boy ever says, you remind me of someone–don’t fall in love with him. You will never be anything more than second best.
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Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.
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I know love because I am in love. Because of how long I’ve loved. Because of the man I love.
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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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And I told him, if I am so hard to love, then let me run wild.
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She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.
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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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How much love is a person capable of giving? I thought I knew the answer until I met you.
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Fear isn’t a reason when it comes to love–it’s an excuse. Anyone who has ever been in love will tell you that.
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We were born to walk this world in intersecting lines.
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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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