Quotes About Beauty

With only slight exaggeration one might say that he (Virgil) "discovered" the evening.

Here the development has run full cycle. To Guercino's "Even in Arcady, there is death" Fragonard's drawing replies: "Even in death, there may be Arcady.

Children know everything about beauty," Titch countered softly. "It is adults who have forgotten.

I tell you what I know. The world's damn beautiful. But it's an accidental beauty. What we do, it's deliberate. It's the one damn consolation you can offer not just you own life, but other lives you ain't even met.

I stared at the ahosi. It was said that in battle they wore silk skirts and pretty coral necklaces and that their knives left wounds like love blisters on the throats of their enemies.

Erasmus and I used to watch her as she sat for her Italian lessons in the afternoon. She was the most beautiful creature we knew. You were children, his father said. You knew nothing of beauty. Children know everything about beauty, Titch countered softly. It is adults who have forgotten.

Sometimes...I will stand ...and look upon the babe's face at a distance. I almost cannot bear it: the soft skin, the tenderness, the eyes so guileless and trusting. I would almost wish the innocent to be stricken at once, there, in God's house. To keep such purity intact. From the arms of God to the arms of God.

El bohío de la loma, bajo sus alas de paja, siente el frescor mañanero y abre sus ojos al alba. Vuela el pájara del nido. Brinca el gallo de la rama. A los becerros, aislados de las tetas de las vacas, les corre por el hocico leche de la madrugada. Las mariposas pululan —rubí, zafir, oro, plata...—: flores huérfanas que rondan buscando a las madres ramas...

Age does not bring you wisdom, age brings you wrinkles.

If it was occasionally ludicrous, it was always sublime. [Estelle Jussim on the 19th century Cult of the Beautiful.]

Aphrodite had the beauty; Zeus had the thunderbolts. Everyone loved Aphrodite, but everyone listened to Zeus.

I feel sorry for Sparta when you're queen. What are you going to do? Tell your husband and the rest of the court that they can wrap your beauty around them to keep warm and well all winter?

Who knows, my lady?" he said. "Maybe one day when you're a grown woman, your beauty will make Zeus himself fall in love with you and put your image up there as well, for us ordinary men to see and envy." "I can think of better reasons to end up among the stars," I said, smiling at such harmless flattery.

By my third try, Lady Aithra had lost her patience and brought me to stand before her son while he was in conference with a group of hard-faced Athenian nobles. I smiled unashamedly when she called me willful, wild, and ungrateful, which provoked her so much that she actually dared to declare, "My son, you must not marry this girl. I don't care how beautiful she is, she'll bring us nothing but grief and leave Athens in flames!

Even if I was pretty, it wasn't going to be enough to bring me the life I wanted: one where I was free to make choices that mattered, one where people listened to what I had to say. Aphrodite had the beauty; Zeus had the thunderbolts. Everyone loved Aphrodite, but everyone listened to Zeus. I'd never get my hands on a thunderbolt, so if I wanted to be free, I'd better find a way to get my hands on the next best thing: a sword.

Because the truth holds the greatest magic, the greatest beauty, and sometimes the greatest danger

the truth holds the greatest magic, the greatest beauty, and sometimes the greatest danger.

There are moments when the past ceases to be a form of the present. Rain and tears look alike.

In the green escape of my palace, over a bridge, under a canopy of opalescent light, through there, between dark branches and their shivering leaves, I'm lost in the scent of yellow roses, arrested by the range's filtering light.

Spring is dangerous, like love. And love survives the lovers.

Beauty, it's an inner sense, and it makes us happy. It's not complicated, we need it.

An awfully beautiful story, but it isn't mine.

Quite a warm friendship had sprung up during the month between the little fair-faced girl, who looked with such serene blue eyes to a future she felt must be beautiful, and the world-worn man, who looked back to a past all blackened and unlovely by his own acts.

Australian girls nearly always begin to think of 'lovers and nonsense', as middlefolks call it, long before their English aged sisters do... And herein lies the chief defect of the very young Australian girl. She is like a peach; a beautiful, smooth, rich peach, that has come to ripeness, almost in a day, and that hastens to rub off the soft, delicate bloom that is its chief charm, just to show its bright, warm colouring more clearly.