Quotes About Beauty

Fiction is the only way to redeem the formlessness of life

Beauty, extreme yet ambiguously available; this very roughly, was what Nicola's entrance to the Black Cross had said to Keith. But he didn't know the nature -- he didn't know the brand -- of the availability.

Only in art will the lion lie down with the lamb, and the rose grows without the thorn

Above, all was ocean brightness: against the flat blue sky the clouds had been sketched by an impressively swift and confident hand. What talent. I like the sky and often wonder where I'd be without it. I know: I'd be in England, where we don't have one.

To understand Michelangelo and his art, it is necessary to accept both these truths. He believed that the sight of beautiful individuals was a path to the divine beauty and goodness of God. Simultaneously, it was a source of hopeless erotic yearning.

But he was an extremely unaesthetic person. When you said that such and such was a beautiful work of art he seemed quite put out. He would say, "What do you mean? Prove it!"' 'Orwell

When I spoke of beauty, I was thinking of Rilke's notion that the beautiful is nothing but the beginning of the terrible, and of Hölderlin's idea that the beautiful can unite extreme opposites in intimacy.

Beauty is one way in which truth essentially occurs as unconcealment.

Beauty is a fateful gift of the essence of truth, and here truth means the disclosure of what keeps itself concealed. The beautiful is not what pleases, but what falls within that fateful gift of truth which comes to be when that which is eternally non-apparent and therefore invisible attains its most radiantly apparent appearance.

Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.

In some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.

The potential beauty of human life is constantly made ugly by man's ever-recurring song of retaliation.

Every time I look at the cross I am reminded of the greatness of God and the redemptive power of Jesus Christ. I am reminded of the beauty of sacrificial love and the majesty of unswerving devotion to truth.

Only in the darkness you can see the stars

May you all return here often to remember that life can be sweet, that women are beautiful and that in the Périgord we never forget our friends." He turned to Moore.

God want us to put Him on display, so that everyone who looks at us sees the beauty of His image. It's a profound honor and responsibility to bear the image of God.

Research has found perceiving nature's beauty to be a significant predictor of life satisfaction. In other words, the more one perceived nature's beauty, the more one reported life satisfaction.

I think everyone should take time at least once a week to catch a sunrise, just to feel alive and that there is hope.

But strength without flexibility makes one hard. Come September, when those fierce winds blow in from the sea, those hardwoods crack, splinter and fall. But the pliant palms are resilient and they bend with the wind. This is the secret of a Southern woman. Strength, resilience and beauty. We are never hard.

The yellow cottage with the Charleston green shutters

To describe Monroe's books is like trying to describe the Lowcountry itself.

This magical song took them all far from the muted peace of the suburban blocks they were familiar with, far, farther back to their youth, when they were smooth skinned, slim and sassy, when they walked the city streets with swinging hips, when their worlds delivered pearls.

And, too, there was that delightful freshness of mist and dewy grass that lingered like spirits at dawn. Marietta

the measuring tape and saw Michael standing alone on the small rise. The man seemed a part of the scenery as he stood, hands on hips, his hair whipped by the wind like the meadowsweet at his feet, his jaw set like the granite rocks. "He must love his job," she said to Bobby. Bobby looked up and followed her gaze to his brother, standing