Quotes About Beauty

The garden was the most beautiful place Margherita had ever seen. In spring, it was a sea of delicate blossom. In summer, it was green and fruitful. In autumn, the trees blazed gold and red and orange, as vivid as Margherita's hair. Even in winter, it was beautiful, with bare branches against the old stone walls and green hedges in curves and curlicues about beds of winter-flowering herbs and flowers.

Beauty and perfection do not guarantee grace and fulfillment and are always sacrificed. Life itself seems a ritual of sacrifice, and the world the alter on which plants and animals lay down their own lives for the sustenance of others, and on which we lay our youth, our well-being, our loved ones, and finally our lives. I am an ignorant woman who has sacrificed all of these things but the last, and cannot say for whom or what I perform this unrelenting ritual.

It gave her a feeling of her own power, to make something practical and beautiful just by using her own skill and creativity. It inspired her.

Because that's what art is; that's what it does. It breaks your heart. It moves you. If it doesn't do that, forget it. It's not worth it.

And beauty has a quality all of its own that seems supreme; that seems above mere men with slaving ships and pistols...

She taught me not to block out ugliness by giving imagined beauty false dominion: but that on the other hand, in the midst of hatred and ugliness there is color, there is life, and there is ...personal usefullness... as well.

There are moments in friendship, Fred had said, when the thing spreads beyond the ordinary margins, when something is said that carries you beyond the little guidemarks of restraint or indifference, like watercolours merging on a page, a moment when you survey a relationship from som transcendent point and see its beauty, the beauty of persons, of friendship itself.

Lila can't be a model until she's at least 21. She is already a mini-me - it is scary. She already has her own beauty kit.

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

You're much better than fireworks. They're all over in a moment, and you're going to stay for a fortnight. Besides, fireworks are noisy, and they make too much smoke.

Mr Haywood is Ernie,' the Lamb told Robert. 'The one who thinks Anthea's pretty.

I live in one of the best places, bar none, to appreciate the wild natural environment. I also live in one of the most politically difficult places to work on its behalf: Alaska.

He thought of the Finishing School for Barbies where long-legged, high-breasted, stomachless girls went to get shaved clean, get their toenails painted pink, their nipples removed, and all body opening sewn shut, except for their mouths, which curved in perpetual smiles and led nowhere.

There is no beauty in sadness. No honor in suffering. No growth in fear. No relief in hate. It's just a waste of perfectly good happiness.

They wanted to forget that there ever had been, in Europe, any other civilization at all. There was so much beauty they had not made, so many books they had not written, so many records of wars in which they had not fought, and so many ideas of human behavior which were anathema to them.

When a basket is woven, each strand of grass, or reed, or wool, or root, must pass repeatedly through human hands, and this, the principle of human touch, is what remains long after the artifact has lost utility or form, something, I think, about life being lived in its physical moment, something, it must be, about grace.

Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do.

Dressing up is a bore. At a certain age, you decorate yourself to attract the opposite sex, and at a certain age, I did that. But I'm past that age.

Plain women know more about men than beautiful women do.

O beautiful for spacious skies,For amber waves of grain,For purple mountain majestiesAbove the fruited plain!America! America!God shed his grace on theeAnd crown thy good with brotherhoodFrom sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for spacious skies for amber waves of grain

Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.

The real sin against life is to abuse and destroy beauty, even one's own even more, one's own, for that has been put in our care and we are responsible for its well-being.

Schumann admitted, but only to himself that if hyenas were beautiful and could sing and dance, he would forgive them for being hyenas. But would they ever forgive him for being human?