Quotes About Beauty

The House Beautiful is, for me, the play lousy.

She is happy, for she knows That her dust is very pretty

He's always with me, he and all his beauty and his cruelty.

There was a rose that faded young; I saw its shattered beauty hung Upon a broken stem. I heard them say, What need to care With roses budding everywhere? I did not answer them.

God's acre was her garden-spot, she said; She sat there often, of the Summer days, Little and slim and sweet, among the dead, Her hair a fable in the leveled rays.

Lilacs blossom just as sweet Now my heart is shattered. If I bowled it down the street

If all the tears you shed so lavishly Were gathered, as they left each brimming eye. And were collected in a crystal sea, The envious ocean would curl up and dry -

There was a rose that faded young; I saw its shattered beauty hung Upon a broken stem. I heard them say, What need to care With roses budding everywhere? I did not answer them. There was a bird, brought down to die; They said, A hundred fill the sky-- What reason to be sad? There was a girl, whose lover fled; I did not wait, the while they said, There's many another lad.

Beauty is but skin deep, ugly to the bone. And when beauty fades away, ugly claims its own.

She would grace his home with her charm and beauty and she would make his bed joyous, all without ever having to shame his hearth with another man's memory of her shamelessness.

She had what it took: great hair, a profound understanding of strategic lip gloss, the intelligence to understand the world and a tiny secret interior deadness which meant she didn't care.

Fiordland, a vast tract of mountainous terrain that occupies the south-west corner of South Island, New Zealand, is one of the most astounding pieces of land anywhere on God's earth, and one's first impulse, standing on a cliff top surveying it all, is simply to burst into spontaneous applause.

David Attenborough has said that Bali is the most beautiful place in the world, but he must have been there longer than we were, and seen different bits, because most of what we saw in the couple of days we were there sorting out our travel arrangements was awful. It was just the tourist area, i.e., that part of Bali which has been made almost exactly the same as everywhere else in the world for the sake of people who have come all this way to see Bali.

I've never understood all this fuss people make about the dawn. I've seen a few and they're never as good as the photographs, which have the additional advantage of being things you can look at when you're in the right frame of mind, which is usually around lunchtime.

She felt faintly embarrassed by the sheer profusion of things she had for putting in baths, but she was for some reason incapable of passing any chemist's or herb shop without going in to be seduced by some glass-stoppered bottle of something blue or green or orange or oily that was supposed to restore the natural balance of some vague substance she didn't even know she was supposed to have in her pores.

Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?

Dirk looked at her expressionlessly. Apart from being extremely good-looking in a blondish, willowyish kind of way, she was dressed well in an "I don't care what I wear, just any old thing that's lying around" kind of way that relies on extremely careful about what you leave lying around.

She was a rapidly rising anchor. She had what it took: great hair, a profound understanding of strategic lip gloss, the intelligence to understand the world and a tiny secret interior deadness which meant she didn't care.

The sky clenched, a mountain of mud convulsed, earth and sky bellowed at each other, there was a horrible pinkness, a sudden greenness, a lingering orangeness that stained the clouds, and then the light sank and the night at last was deeply, hideously dark. There was no further sound other than the soft tinkle of water. But

It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, 'as pretty as an airport.' Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort.

Non è sufficiente credere alla bellezza di un giardino? Che bisogno c'è di credere che nasconda delle fate?

En todos los amaneceres hay un momento en que la luz flota y la magia es posible. La creación contuvo el aliento.

All this Magrathea nonsense seemed juvenile. Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too? All

Genügt es denn nicht, dass ein Garten schön ist, ohne dass man unbedingt glauben muss, dass Feen darin hausen?