Quotes About Beauty

The shed of leaves became a cascade of red and gold and after a time the trees stood skeletal against a sky of weathered tin. The land lay bled of its colors. The nights lengthened, went darker, brightened in their clustered stars. The chilled air smelled of woodsmoke, of distances and passing time. Frost glimmered on the morning fields. Crows called across the pewter afternoons.

He would know a number of grown women in his life who did not possess even a small portion of the grace his middle sister owned at the age of fourteen.

Isn't man but a blossom taken by the wind, and only the mountains and the sea and the stars and this Land of the Gods real and everlasting?

If you look over to see what the beautiful young woman sitting next to you is reading, and it turns out to be a book about angels, then you can with perfect justification refuse her entry into your life.

He watched the aperture of the young women's lovely face close ever so slightly and felt a pang in his heart.

Losing your hair and the need to replenish it at all cost is overrated, being bald is a beautiful or manly thing embrace it

A woman's beauty does not expire or decrease overtime with age it's the opposite that happens as a woman's true beauty is within not without and her true beauty never expires and is the real fountain of youth

She smiled for the first time, and he almost had to look away, as if something that nice didn't belong in such a glum and gray place, as if he had no right to look at her expression.

Ella sonrió por primera vez y él casi tuvo que desviar la mirada, como si no tuviera derecho de contemplar su expresión. Pensó que no podía ocurrir algo tan lindo en un lugar tan sombrío y gris.

They say that some things are worse than death. That might be true. Probably is. But life and death are the beginning and end of beauty. You can't have one without the other.

But life and death are the beginning and end of beauty. You can't have one without the other.

She was thin, but not too small. Maybe five and a half feet tall, from what he could tell. She looked like she could be fifteen or sixteen years old, and her hair was tar black. But the thing that had really stood out to him was her skin: pale, white as pearls.

they stared at the vanishing light of day, the sky and water going from orange to pink to purple, then dark blue.

You have a pretty nose. I really want a nose again.

Beauty magazines make my girlfriend feel ugly.

I also became close to nature, and am now able to appreciate the beauty with which this world is endowed.

Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse.

The promos with all of the beautiful women probably attracted some men, but the mystery story line is pretty cool. It's got that dark edge, and people will watch anything funny.

What you have to realize when you write poetry, or if you love poetry, is that poetry is just naturally the greatest god damn thing that ever was in the whole universe

What a view, i said again. The river was blank and mindless with beauty. It was the most glorious thing I have ever seen. But it was not seeing, really. For once it was not just seeing. It was beholding. I beheld the river in its icy pit of brightness, in its far-below sound and indifference, in its large coil and tiny points and flashes of the moon, in its long sinuous form, in its uncomprehending consequence.

The river and everything I remembered about it became a possession to me, a personal, private possession, as nothing else in my life ever had. Now it ran nowhere but in my head, but there it ran as though immortally. I could feel it -- I can feel it -- on different places on my body.... In me it still is, and will be until I die, green, rocky, deep, fast, slow, and beautiful beyond reality.

Edna St Vincent Millay said: My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But, ah, my foes, and oh, my friends – It gives a lovely light.

The woods are but the ears of the Almighty, the air is his breath, and the light of the sun is little more than a glance of his eye.

And where, then, is your sweetheart, Deerslayer?" "She's in the forest, Judith—hanging from the boughs of the trees, in a soft rain—in the dew on the open grass—the clouds that float about in the blue heavens—the birds that sing in the woods—the sweet springs where I slake my thirst—and in all the other glorious gifts that come from God's Providence!