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Laura Chouette Quotes

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Famous Laura Chouette Quotes

“BLOOMING SCARS Those flowers dance around vour marble bust like they were fearing October's kiss - gently they laugh and fall asleep on vour stone veins and cold lips. For they love their names written upon your chest in gold for your heart may be broken, yet it is searching for something untold. They do not know that silver mends the scars that the years formed and the cracks on your skin the sun caused - so silent, still, and weary are the blossoms with whom my love for you is betrothed.”

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Author:Laura Chouette
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“AMBER HEART'S Amber chases the night sky like the stars became fire and gold - and the moon is falling ever closer to the sun he loves so much; So there is not much pain with the world to share, yet we begin to doubt our love and forget our hearts need care. Still, we wish upon the stars to fall faster in love than we did out, so we won't try and pull back for broken hearts are heavy and hard to catch. So while the constellations fade and our souls disappear in their entanglement we hope to learn what it means to truly live again the least.”

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“THE ART OF EVERYONE And autumn died long before the sun touched the last leaf; for death forgets every winter for as long as summer blossoms for itself; For the art of everyone is close to the idea and dwells in thoughts. For every thought rises in the morning - and every beginning is the closest to us in the end, and eventually takes a lifetime to complete itself.”

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“The meadows lay weeping with tears like an emeralds gleam; while every nightingale is seeking the shelter of its only willow's green. - And silently, my step falls on leaves that carry me much further than I'd dream; for willows and thoughts are fading slowly while everything eternal is not seen and yet they keep so many of us in good company for some can not be on their own, nor can they be free. - So I found peace, the one eternal each one seeks and so I left my soul for emerald's gleam; while the meadow still lays weeping with grief over my grave so quietly for it lays beneath the shadow of its only willow's green.”

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Book:Profound Reverie
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“Hues of pale green, on delicate olive branches the soft rustling of somberness along the fields of gold that lay themselves to gentle rest after another long summer. I have nothing to bury under them except my own heart -that is my soul's greatest regret, once my lines begin to fill in autumn, under the velvet gloom of shortening days. The admiration of the Florentine sun had doomed my words to become eventually a remembrance once September falls in October's pale hands. I shall have nothing to grieve for once the winter arrives, coming over the distant hills and laying bare the orchards along his way. I doomed them to become ruins by overthinking, hoping - at least once too often - for change; So, let it be then. I will mourn my mere passion for life in the presence of death - though my art may be eternal.”

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“(WHEN I WAS A CHILD) I was told that I was insane, seeing doctors in hospitals far away from home. LITTLE WHITE PILLS inside small transparent containers that could fit my baby teeth like seashells, I dreamed. WHEN I WAS A CHILD my mind made up things— not castles of sand, nor careless childish dreams. NOW I AM GROWN I can’t see myself anymore, behind walls of lights I painted on as a child. (BUT NOWADAYS) I cannot think back and wonder if these things ever really happened.”

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“I always knew the mountains would take something from me one day. I wrote about their fine lines, their graves, and their shades. Then, one day, I looked up upon the gray— it takes everything and then nothing, even if you offer them everything. You can’t survive it, you live with it— in small pieces, small steps, small moments. All along, it takes you, survives you— you’ll never understand it.”

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“A HOTEL ROOM IN PARIS #31 At the bottom of the lonely window,
The sky looks almost velvety lilac. While at the top, the window frame
Seems to drown in front of an ocean of blue satin. White window frames in uneven walls
Cast no shadow, so the light projects the soul of each traveller instead. So I sit here in silence, filtering out the noise
That the boulevards inhabit and sing each day. Only the music I keep in my room, the silent solitude each one carries;
Carries far and – may I hope – home soon.”

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Book:The Willow Song
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“The Winter Miles The roads of solitude grow whiter,
And stones beneath us paler,
While the green fades completely —
Ahead of us. Grey is the sombre tone we keep,
While wandering along the street
That becomes our destiny —
With each step. Our knees fall into the snow; The trembling stops at last, Here our souls will find eternal rest — In silent grace. -Laura Chouette”

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Author:Laura Chouette
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