Quotes About Beauty

La vida ha sido una combinación de coincidencia de cuento de hadas y alegría de vivir y choques de belleza, junto con un auto cuestionamiento hiriente.

I felt my lungs inflate with the inrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.

Es kam mir vor, als müsse Schatten das Schönste auf der Welt sein, die Millionen beweglicher Formen und Sackgassen des Schattens. Schatten fand sich in Kommodenschubladen, Wandschränken, Koffern, und Schatten fand sich unter Häusern, Bäumen, Steinen, auch fand sich Schatten ganz hinten in den Augen und im Lächeln der Leute, und Schatten, Meilen und Meilen von Schatten, fand sich auf der Nachtseite der Erde.

I thought if only I had a keen, shapely bone structure to my face or could discuss politics shrewdly or was a famous writer Constantin might find me interesting enough to sleep with.

How frail the human heart must be ? a throbbing pulse , a trembling thing ? a fragile, shining instrument of crystal, which can either weep or sing.

No podía apartar los ojos del alfiler. Una gran luz blanca parecía desprenderse de él, iluminando la habitación. Luego la luz se retiraba hacia su propio interior dejando una gota de rocío sobre un campo de oro.

I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own.

felt my lungs inflate with the inrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.

I justified the mess I made of life by saying I'd give it order, form, beauty, writing about it;

How clear, how lovely. Now just write the damn thing.

ama as?l son kez yatt???mda bilinecek deÄŸerim: aÄŸaçlar dokunabilir o zaman, bana ay?racak zamanlar? olur çiçeklerin.

Something about the frank, guileless blue eyes, the beautiful young bodies, the brief scent of the dying flowers smote me like the clean quick cut of a knife. And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.

I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.

Then I thought, how could this Doctor Gordon help me anyway, with a beautiful wife and beautiful children and a beautiful dog haloing him like the angels on a Christmas card?

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health. --from Tulips, written 18 March 1961

She's the sunflower of the Sunflower State.

What word blue could get that dazzling drench of blue moonlight on the flat, luminous field of white snow, with the black trees against the sky, each with its particular configuration of branches? I felt shut in, imprisoned, aware that it was fine and shudderingly beautiful, but too gone with pain and aching to respond and become part of

The sun will diminish it soon enough: Each wave-tip glitters like a knife.

Now I know what the girl meant in Celia Amberley when she said: If he will kiss me, everything will be all right; I'll be pretty again.

the ugliness which by man's sense of wishful thinking becomes a beauty touching us all

bare trees with black clots of rookeries

I felt what the 19th century romantics must have felt: The extension of the soul into the realm of nature.

His big, pleasant, ugly black-clad wife, very broad-beamed, came out. Said she also milked goats; described frisky games of little kid with hand motions. Moon brightening through clouds as we left, clear-cut pine tree jagged against sky. Man happy, own world, out of earth; brother kept three cows on hill beyond railroad station. Left feeling good day; light yellow-green eyes of goats.

How best beauty's born of hardihood.