Quotes About Beauty

Ik zou een héél boek willen schrijven over een kiezelsteen en over een paars viooltje. Ik zou met één enkele kiezelsteen heel lang kunnen leven en een gevoel kunnen hebben in Gods machtige natuur te leven.

I still made a short detour to seek out a flower stall, and went home with a large bunch of roses. They are just as real as all the misery I witness each day.

Derrière la maison, la pluie et la tempête des derniers jours ont ravagé le jasmin, ses fleurs blanches flottent éparpillées dans les flaques noires sur le toit plat du garage. Mais quelque part en moi ce jasmin continue à fleurir, aussi exubérant, aussi tendre que par le passé." (176)

Oh God, I thank You for having created me as I am. I thank You for the sense of fulfillment I sometimes have; that fulfillment is after all nothing but being filled with You. I promise You to strive my whole life long for beauty and harmony and also humility and true love, whispers of which I hear inside me during my best moments.

All they could see was sky, water, birds, light, and confluence. It was the whole morning world.

The first virtue of a painting is to be a feast for the eyes.

Of which beauty will you speak? There are many: there are a thousand: there is one for every look, for every spirit, adapted to each taste, to each particular constitution.

La musique est la volupté de l'imagination.

How strange painting is, it delights us with representations of objects that are not pleasing in themselves! (15 September 1854)

When the proportions are too perfect it detracts from a sense of the sublime. (13 January 1857)

La poesia, come il bene e il bello, è spesso contagiosa.

Todas as casas onde há livros e quadros e discos são bonitas. E são feias todas as casas, por mais luxuosas, onde faltem essas coisas." ?Eugénio de Andrade

Creio que foi o sorriso, o sorriso foi quem abriu a porta. Era um sorriso com muita luz lá dentro, apetecia entrar nele, tirar a roupa, ficar nu dentro daquele sorriso. Correr, navegar, morrer naquele sorriso.

Receding Surf The cool violence of wine; the furrows of receding surf; the morning whistle of the shepherd, more propitious for art than all the music of the spheres; this pride at having in one's heart the spilled milk of the stars.

Olhos postos na terra, tu virás no ritmo da própria primavera, e como as flores e os animais abrirás nas mãos de quem te espera.

Life has only one expression, the one where the rooster crows, the one where you listen to it, moved, knowing that the night cannot contain it.

The effortlessness of a performance for which great strength is needed is a spectacle of whose aesthetic beauty the East has an exceedingly sensitive and grateful appreciation.

As the sun disappeared below the horizon and its glare no longer reflected off a glassy sea, I thought of how beautiful the sunsets always were in the Pacific. They were even more beautiful than over Mobile Bay. Suddenly a thought hit me like a thunderbolt. Would I live to see the sunset tomorrow?

The Natural History Museum is open to the public on Tuesdays and Fridays. Elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus; extraordinary animals! Rubens rendered them marvelously. I had a feeling of happiness as soon as I entered the place and the further I went the stronger it grew. I felt my whole being rise above commonplaces and trivialities and the petty worries of my daily life. What an immense variety of animals and species of different shapes and functions!

I want my prayers, and the prayers of my friends, to ricochet off the rock faces of mountains, reverberate down the corridors of shopping malls, sound ocean deeps, water arid deserts, find a foothold in fetid swamps, encounter poets as they search for the accurate word, mingle their fragrance with wildflowers in Alpine Meadows, sing with the looms of Canadian lakes.

God reveals himself, that is, in creation and in Christ, in ways we can see and hear and touch and taste, in place and person. Beauty is the term we apply to these hints of transcendence, these perceptions that there is more going on here than we can account for. And that is how we come to identify as apostles of the gospel the men and women and, yes, children, who use words and images and sounds and textures to wake us up to beauty latent and implicit all around us.

Blossoming flowers look beautiful before they're cut or picked, but without soil or water they wither more quickly than grass.

Good poetry survives not when it is pretty or beautiful or nice but when it is true: accurate and honest.

Beauty is a precious trace that eternity causes to appear to us and that it takes away from us. A manifestation of eternity, and a sign of death as well.