Quotes About Beauty

Why were we made just so, to find so many things that happened every day pretty?

I took me to the Banks of the River, and tarried there awhile, as the lowering Sun made one with the Water, giving generously of Itself & its Diverse Colors, in a Splay of Magnificence that preceded a most wonderful Silence.

It's hard to get any beauty at all into a story. If and when we do, it might not be the type of beauty we've always dreamed of making. But we have to take whatever beauty we can get, however we can get it.

In spite of the strife the stars were bright as crystal.

He never appeared ugly to me, for his face, beaming with boundless kindness and benevolence towards mankind, had the stamp of intellectual beauty.

Having come so close to losing everything, I am freed now of all fear, hesitation, and timidity, and, once revived, intend to devoutly wander the earth, imbibing, smelling, sampling, loving whomever I please; touching, tasting, standing very still among the beautiful things of this world

Why were we made just so, to find so many things that happen every day pretty?

One day, walking neer one of your Yuman houses, smelling all the interest with snout, I herd, from inside, the most amazing sound. Turns out, what that sound is, was: the Yuman voice, making werds. They sounded grate! They sounded like prety music! I listened to those music werds until the sun went down...

Whatever failures you feel you may have been responsible for, leave them behind you now, she said. All turned out beautifully. Come with us. Come where though? I said. I don't - You are a wave that has crashed upon the shore, she said. See, I don't get that, I said.

never appeared ugly to me, for his face, beaming with boundless kindness and benevolence towards mankind, had the stamp of intellectual beauty.

Life is full of beauty. Why fight? Why hate? Learn to enjoy, and you will have no need to fight, and no desire to! Love life, walk in a circle, learn to enjoy coffee!

And yet, it was beautiful, what just happened in that pub, and needed. Something lovely in these people rose to the occasion. And overflowing with loveliness, they got totally wasted.

Or sit they girt by laws unknown Whereto the senses serve as bars – With fire of unrecorded stars That light a heaven not our own? ("The Testimony of the Suns")

One of the great things about books is sometimes there are some fantastic pictures. (Face palm!)

I remember that one day, when we were in a car tooling along at top speed,we crashed into a cyclist, an apparently very young and very pretty girl. Her head was almost totally ripped off by the wheels. For a long time, we were parked a few yards beyond without getting out, fully absorbed in the sight of the corpse. The horror and despair at so much bloody flesh, nauseating in part, and in part very beautiful, was fairly equivalent to our usual impression upon seeing one another.

Observing her, I saw that she was made up, that she was in an evening gown, that mourning indecently emphasized her beauty.

Her lips pale, her face red from the cold, Dorothea said nothing. She ate a kind of cake she was fond of. She was still beautiful; nevertheless her face kept dissolving in that light, dissolving in the grey of the sky.

La vita, giovanotto, è una donna sdraiata, con seni accostati e rigonfi, con una gran pancia liscia e molle fra i fianchi sporgenti, con braccia sottili, cosce piene e occhi socchiusi, che nella sua provocazione splendida e beffarda esige il nostro più fervido ardore.

The beauty of sorrow is superior to the beauty of life.

Woman is the window through which we see the world.

She must have been pretty once. At least, like everyone, she had been young. Now her eyes, her mouth, her whole body exuded weakness. Could it be that she was ill and waiting for her next attack? Some people who know that at a particular hour they are going to start suffering again have that expression, subdued and yet tense, like drug addicts waiting for the hour of their dose.

The sun finally died in beauty, flinging out its crimson flames, which cast their reflection on the faces of passers-by, giving them a strangely feverish look. The darkness of the trees became deeper. You could hear the Seine flowing. Sounds carried farther, and people in their beds could feel, as they did every night, the vibration of the ground as buses rolled past.

What a leg. What an air. A most engaging smile.

If you mention Bella's name to me again, Gil, I am likely to do you a mischief!' Sherry warned him. 'I never cared the snap of my fingers for that wretched girl, and if you are not assured of that, ask her! Why, God save the mark, she may be a beauty, but give me my Kitten! Bella, with her airs and her graces, and her miffs, and her curst sharp tongue! No, I thank you! What's more, no man who had lived with Kitten would look twice at the Beauty!