Her afternoon tea is a fountain of daydreams.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNWe are mind wanderers enchanted by the world inside our heads.
More Marie-Kristin Hofmann Quotes
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Nights were made for broken hearts.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
I search for summer in every corner of september.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
We are mind wanderers enchanted by the world inside our heads.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
It’s January, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
The open road is the wanderer’s wonderland.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Let’s go back when we still saw stories in the stars.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
It’s not songs that remind me of lost lovers. It’s poems.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
There’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
He was the hope that died with the last day of summer.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
With each daydream she weaved her pastel heart into the sky.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Summer was soaked with you.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
We fell in love because we were both summer souls.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Spring is poetry poured into nature.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
We always live for the summer until we don’t live it at all.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Every drop of her gin held a lost world of night sky dances.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
If I make him my home, will I lose the home inside myself?
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
I fell in love with the way you wanted more.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
All my summer memories sparkle in riverbed reflections.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
It’s January, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
I can’t wait for the day to be wild again.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Kiss the words from my lips like a love poem.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Silent lips speak the deepest truths.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Give me love like summer rain.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
It takes effort to make it to forever.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Lets breath magic into each other.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN -
Night time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN