Quotes About Beauty

Susan Burke was silent for a few beats. Then: "My life is falling apart," she murmured. She was extremely pretty but so wary and nervous you didn't realize she was pretty until you looked hard at her.

I'll take those for my room, Momma. They look fine to me." "They're not." "I don't mind." "Camille, I was just looking at them, and they're not good blooms." She dropped the pliers to the ground, began tugging at a stem. "But they're fine for me. For my room." "Oh, now look what you've done. I'm bleeding.

Amy was absolutely beautiful. I hated her. I was afraid of her.

Flash of Marian, now bones in a coffin, a white satin ribbon wrapped around dried blonde curls, like some bouquet gone stale.

She had what the Victorians would call a finely shaped head.

There is such a thing as a pretty trailer park, you know. Diane

On the pavement near my car are the smashed skeletons of two baby birds, their flattened beaks and wings making them look reptilian. They've been there for a year. I can't resist looking at them each time I get in my car. We need a good flood, wash them away.

What kind of books? Sories that make for wonder. Stories that make for laughter. Stories that stir one within with and understanding of the true natures of courage, of love, of beauty. Stories that make one tingle with high adventure, with daring, with grim determination, with the capacity of seeing danger through to the end. Stories that bring our minds to kneel in reverence; stories that show the tenderness of true mercy, the strength of loyalty, the unmawkish respect for what is good.

That is what a book does. It introduces us to people and places we wouldn't ordinarily know. A good book is a magic gateway into a wider world of wonder, beauty, delight, and adventure. Books are experiences that make us grow, that add something to our inner stature.

What kind of books? 'Stories that make for wonder. Stories that make for laughter. Stories that stir one within with and understanding of the true natures of courage, of love, of beauty. Stories that make one tingle with high adventure, with daring, with grim determination, with the capacity of seeing danger through to the end. Stories that bring our minds to kneel in reverence; stories that show the tenderness of true mercy, the strength of loyalty, the unmawkish respect for what is good.

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.

Me dijeron: — O te subes al carro o tendrás que empujarlo. Ni me subí ni lo empujé. Me senté en la cuneta y alrededor de mí, a su debido tiempo, brotaron las amapolas.

Then she turned and firmly folded her evening like gold and lavender gauze deep within the creases of her dreams, and let her clothes drop to the floor

Ian sighed wanly. I once had the means to be gaga over art–before I found myself in a country where the standard of beauty is toaster waffles shaped like cartoon characters.

Jonah peered critically up at the Renaissance masterpiece. Man, those copies don't due it justice. This one's the truth! Only a Janus, groaned Hamilton.

Dark hair, olive skin, handsome features. It always made Amy guilty to find him good-looking. Ian Kabra.

The garden was at its best that first week in the month of June. The peonies were more opulent than usual and I walked slowly through the green light on the terrace above the white river, enjoying the heavy odor of peonies and of new roses rambling in hedges.

Wilson was very much school of Montaigne. Like Montaigne, he was not exactly misogynistic but he felt that the challenge of another male mind was the highest sort of human exchange while possession of a beautiful woman was also of intense importance to him.

Poets were intended to live to the full the life of the senses.

A narcissist is someone better looking than you.

Mrs. Todd was a pretty if coarse-looking girl with thick brows, an endearing husky laugh and rather too much flesh on her bones for my taste, which often rules me but is no tyrant.

Was hätt' ein Weiberkopf erdacht, das er nicht zu beschönen wüßte!

The moon bathed his naked figure in light as his fingers reached to touch the stars, his hair streaming.

The world was in her heart already, like the small spot of decay in a fruit.