Quotes About Beauty

felt the kindliness of the moss, which is all over everywhere once you get out of the made world. God's flooring. All the kinds, pillowy, pin-cushiony, shag carpet. Gray sticks of moss with red heads like matchsticks.

Layers of orange like a buttermilk pie cooling on the horizon.

But where is the place for girls in that Kingdom? The rules don't quite apply to us, nor protect us either. What do a girl's bravery and righteousness count for, unless she is also pretty? Just try being the smartest and most Christian seventh-grade girl in Bethlehem, Georgia. Your classmates will smirk and call you a square. Call you worse, if you're Adah.

Who else could make the colors of the aurora borealis rise off my skin where he strokes my forearm? Or send needles of ice tinkling blue through my brain when he looks in my eyes?

But I'll tell you a secret. When I want to take God at his word exactly, I take a peep out the window at His Creation. Because that, darling, He makes fresh for us every day, without a lot of dubious middle managers.

She breathed in slowly; this was what she had, the beauty of this awful night. She listened for small yips in the distance, something to put in her heart besides the lost phoebes and the dread of another full moon rising with no more small celebrations from her body ever again. She kept herself still and tried to think of coyote children emerging from the forest's womb with their eyes wide open while the finite possibilities of her own children closed their eyes, finally, on this world.

The upshot of all this talking was me getting pretty much in love with Emmy. She was beautiful and like a grown person.

If it had been July, my heart already would have cracked for the beauty. As it was, I might die of loneliness.

The giant beech next door intends to shiver off every hair of its pelt.

Out in the garden purple and golden crocuses and the small blue flowers called "glory-of-the-snow" covered a certain spot like living patchwork.

Sometimes it's hard being dark-skinned, just like it's sometimes hard to be any shade of brown or yellow. But it's not awful. We're just as cute and wonderful as anyone else.

who goes to the beauty shop and spends a small fortune.

beautifuller

flutterflies

Honor women: They wreathe and weave Heavenly roses into earthly life. —Johann von Schiller

Not all emeralds are exactly the same color.

the canvas the first time I saw

because how could something so awful also contain something so impossibly good?

Sigur Rós's Samskeyti, a song Delilah

I had such a strong awareness that one day, I was going to be gone, but the trees would still be here, the moon would still be above them, shining down, and it made me cry, but a good kind of crying, because I knew it had to be that way. I had to accept it because that's the way things are. Things end. That's mono no aware.

Sigur Rós's Samskeyti

I watched her, a tall girl with long hair so black that under the stage lighting it coruscated like moonlit liquid. It cascaded in waves around the smooth contours of her shoulders, past the alluring shadows of her waist, around the upturned curve of her ass. She was tall and fine-boned, with delicate white skin, high cheekbones, and small, high breasts. Put the hair up, add a little couture, and you'd have the world's classiest courtesan.

I played baccarat at the upscale Bellagio; roulette at the off-strip Rio; craps at the fading Riviera, whose attempts to match the gayness and glitter around her felt forced, artificial, like makeup layered on by a woman who recognizes she was never beautiful to begin with and has now, in addition, grown colorless and old.

mono no aware