Quotes by Laura Chouette

Wishes are just made up words for the stars.

We made a home for our wishes in the stars;while forgetting they were meant to be only the beginning.

Our love defines the way we dream.

Some expect everything.Some expect nothing.And at the end of the daywe all look at the same world, just with different colours in mind.

I wish that all your childhood stars settle on your dreams so you still see them shine while the world may to forgets them.

I wish that all your stars settle on your dreams - so you still see them shine while the world may to forgets them.

Some souls are too brokento return to the soulsthey once belonged to.

I wish that all your starssettle on your dreams- so you’ll still see them shinewhile the world may forgets them.

Hope is build with pieces, so do not dare to suffer more than once.

They dancedand yet they died.

We only write about the thingswe dare not dream about.

Time keeps us awake while dreaming.

We always have a choice left maybe it is not the last or the first one.But is still a choicethat is worth changing our lives.

We should never allowthat the scars on our heartchange the way we love -no matter how deep they run.

Worries never helped a sinking ship- but they changedhow the ship has been built.

Art puts me trough lifeand trough art I see life.

Love is a delicately sweet suffering.

Love is a delicately suffering.

What our love dreads the mostis the fear of never loving -not the thought of followingthe wrong heart.

I touched each staryou collected for me in vain only to see my sky fadeinside the glimmer of a dream.

And if everything we loveis considered artthen our love isthe greatest masterpiece.

The lights are goneyet your absence makeseven the darkness tremble -for nothing feels as empty as a placewithout you.

I used to paint the world goldenwhile drowning inside the silver of your words.

And between allthose eternitiesyou realise that art & lovemy be the only thingsthat stay long enoughinside one's soulto make an impression.

Champagne lips and tired eyesunder endless velvet skies a love living only for the highs.

A reverie is one soul’s river;but a word is one heart’s vein.

You can not break my heart and call the lines you write on art.

We’ve all carried too much;maybe that’s why,when we lay down something,it feels like everything is leaving, and yet -too much remains.

Shallow are the heartsthat bloom beside empty dreams.

For the ink is the same each day but the words are blooming in coloursno one has ever seen for my words are flowers,and your love is a garden.

And I kept each piecethat the night offered me for the night was full of you.

Memories are not always a prison sometimes they can be a key too.

She lived with too many ghosts inside her mind maybe that's why she became one herself in the end.

Art completes our hearts.

While others feared the ghosts of the past, she fell in love with them.

We can rest on each other's hearts yet our dreams keep on wondering.

My love dances quietly,so it does not wakethe memories of you.

While we keep on dancingour souls delicately embrace.

The right way to admire something is to love it unconditionally.

The ink I write withis borrowed from the stars -too blue to be the skyand too dark to be its night.

I wrote so much about our lovethat the feeling itself turned into art.

And the home we build for our loveended up keeping it out of its own walls.

Everythingoutside of our mind is endless so why limit oneself?

Why would my wordsever borrow the inkof their own demise?

I can not be a part of myself -for everything that creates my soulincompletes my heart.

You can not create something without love and expect it to be great.

We always hide something of ourselves whenever we create something.