Quotes About Beauty

And she took in Lizzie Greystock, whom she hated almost as much as she did sermons, because the admiral's wife had been her sister, and she recognised a duty. But, having thus bound herself to Lizzie, — who was a beauty, — of course it became the first object of her life to get rid of Lizzie by a marriage.

Everything smiled on her with gilded dimples, and these were the smiles she valued. As

If he should wish it, she would make no difficulty of parting with the things around her. Of what concern were the prettinesses of life to one whose inner soul was hampered with such ugliness?

Believe me, dear child, a state of virgin maidenhood is the happiest lot for woman; but beauty betrays us to love and love is the father of trouble.

Though he knew her age to a day, — and knew her to be younger than himself, yet she was old. Something had gone of her native bloom, something had been scratched and chipped from the first fair surface, and this had been repaired by varnish and veneering.

To her the butterflies of the world had been all in all, and the working bees had been a tribe apart with which she was no more called upon to mix than is my lady's spaniel with the kennel hounds. But

Most of us know when we enter a drawing-room whether it is a pretty room or no; but how few of us know how to make a drawing-room pretty! There has come up in London in these latter days a form of room so monstrously ugly that I will venture to say that no other people on earth but Londoners would put up with it. Londoners, as a rule, take their houses as they can get them, looking only to situation, size, and price.

CHAPTER XXVII 'WONDERFUL BIRD!

She was made to sparkle, to be bright with outside garniture, — to shine and glitter, and be rich in apparel. The only doubt might be whether paste diamonds might not better suit her character.

Oh, I can't tell you. She looks like a beautiful animal that you are afraid to caress for fear it should bite you; — an animal that would be beautiful if its eyes were not so restless, and its teeth so sharp and so white.

She liked lies, thinking them to be more beautiful than truth. To lie readily and cleverly, recklessly and yet successfully, was, according to the lessons which she had learned, a necessity in woman and an added grace in man.

CHAPTER XI FROM IMPINGTON GORSE

Mr. Toogood, as he came forward to meet him, thought that he had never seen a sweeter face. There was very much of melancholy in it, of that soft sadness of age which seems to acknowledge, and in some sort to regret, the waning oil of life; but the regret to be read in such faces has in it nothing of the bitterness of grief; there is no repining that the end has come, but simply a touch of sorrow that so much that is dear must be left behind.

What matters who it is as long as she is young and pretty, and has the interest attached to her of something more than ordinary position? When men tell me of the cruelty of women, I think that no woman can be really cruel because no man is capable of suffering. A woman, if she is thrown aside, does suffer.

Let us presume that Barchester is a quiet town in the West of England, more remarkable for the beauty of its cathedral and the antiquity of its monuments than for any commercial prosperity; that the west end of Barchester is the cathedral close, and that the aristocracy of Barchester are the bishop, dean, and canons, with their respective wives and daughters.

Leigh says that colors are the smiles of nature." "Imagine

Pues mi ser es bello pero espantoso. Y sólo es bello porque es espantoso.

Dad also treasured the Church's beauty. Some years ago, then-Cardinal Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) observed that one of the most convincing demonstrations of the Catholic Church's truth is "the beauty that the faith has generated." That statement by a man of such intellectual standing might surprise us because we tend to associate beauty with feelings and not with truth.

Se un giorno muoio – si disse – voglio che il cielo sia come in questo istante.

Blood-red Roses Tell You of Happiness'.

there was a man and a woman who came together naked and unashamed, proudly bestowing on each other the beauty of their bodies and thereby finding ineffable joy.

Lake Como, she said the little name to herself lingeringly. He had described a marble palace amongst cypress trees, had made her feel that she was there with him listening to the lap of the water, the singing of a nightingale, the love serenade of a boatman on the lake. Piangi, piangi fanciulla, he had sung for them the first line. She hadn't known that he could sing.

They drove up Third Avenue so that they might see the famous Stuyvesant pear tree on the corner of Thirteenth Street. Again for the two hundredth time its ancient boughs were loaded with blossoms. How strange it was that it could go on renewing itself in exquisite youth, when the hands that had planted it had so long ago fallen to dust!

She had beauty still, the thinness of her flesh but exposed the grace of her bones and sinews, but the great brooding eyes were circled by umber shadows and the thick black lashes seemed too heavy for the weary lids.