“Love paints the heart so delicate; so why would my words ever borrow the ink of their own demise?” — Laura Chouette Copy Share Image
“We place too much of ourselves inside art - so we become part of it and never feel quiet again for the people, we… — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“Christmas Hyacinths The air grows cleaner with each sight Of words - silver and clear - Without heaviness and sighs. Winter closes in on each street, That… — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“We are our own tragedies. The people we love seemingly are only endings that we prefer before the curtain falls on its own accord.” — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“Simple things are found in ordinariness - but extraordinary things live inside love.” — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“Love paints the heart so delicate; so why would my words ever borrow the ink of their own demise?” — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“The Price Love will probably kill me, Long before I fell out of it, Or madly in with another. It will rush like a red hand, With… — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“(WHEN I WAS A CHILD) I was told that I was insane, seeing doctors in hospitals far away from home. LITTLE WHITE PILLS inside… — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“We always hide our souls whenever we create something that praises the heart.” — Laura Chouette Copy Share
“While we haunt ourselves, we become part of others. With all our broken pieces, we are gathered in mosaics— reflecting every careless smile, echoing… — Laura Chouette Copy Share
