Quotes About Beauty

All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

The thing that I still come back away with is how close so many people feel to the mountain Mt. Rainier emotionally and psychically, and yet how far away the world is when you're on the mountain.

This is what we see when we look up at Rainier, the beauty, the horror, the awe the unbelievability of size that confirms our own consequence on this earth. We look at the mountain, like god and can imagine nothing larger. Its incompressible life-span reminds us of the fleeting mortality of our own bones. It looms over our lives on clear days and and stay present but hidden through the clouds of winter. Like god it remains everywhere forever.

Civilization proceeds in a direction opposite from everything mountains represent: starvation, hardship, coldness, the constant scramble to survive...People used to avoid mountains, but now we seek their company. We come for the pretty sights, but also to find a place still free from those life-saving constraints. We come to the mountain seeking beauty and terror.

In the deep forests of Mount Rainier, the sun doesn't rise, it leaks in thin bands through the trees.

When the sun shines, the Wonderland Trail is an exhausting but not unrewarding trek. When it rains, the Wonderland's a downright bitch.

People used to avoid mountains, but now we seek their company. We come for the pretty sights, but also to find a place still free from those life-saving constraints. We come to the mountain seeking beauty and terror.

He lifts his eyes to Jade Dragon Peak and, suddenly, in his silver greatcoat, becomes the living image of my favourite upland traveller, the poet Li Po: You ask me why I live in the grey hills. I smile but do not answer, for my thoughts are elsewhere. Like peach petals carried by the stream, they have gone

O dromedário tem o olho do cu mais elegante de todos os animais que conheço, nada tem que ver com a carne rosada e berrante do recto que se vê num cavalo. E produz a mais delicada bosta - uma forma elíptica, muito perfeita, que depressa endurece ao sol. a forma e a textura de uma noz-pecã.

I climbed a path and from the top looked up-stream towards Chile. I could see the river, glinting and sliding through the bone-white cliffs with strips of emerald cultivation either side. Away from the cliffs was the desert. There was no sound but the wind, whirring through thorns and whistling through dead grass, and no other sign of life but a hawk, and a black beetle easing over white stones.

But, really, why does anyone create? You feel a...a restlessness inside, a need to make something new, something no one has ever seen before. You want to add to the beauty and the richness of the world with a gift, an offering that is uniquely yours. It's an act of selfishness and generosity, all rolled into one.

Still, the painful death of that unicorn had been satisfying to watch

This fixation of desire upon beauty in fantasy leads to a kind of living death or, as Lacan calls it, a "zone of encroachment of death upon life" (p. 331/285). This is perhaps "the place of desire insofar as it is a desire for nothing

The most beautiful and profound emotion we can experience is the sensation of the mystical. It is the power of all true science. — Albert Einstein

The seasons will go on without us and other poets will speak of love

Her eyes] were like two perfect emeralds stuck in the middle of a large sausage pizza.

Don't run back inside, darlin', you know just what I'm here for. So you're scared and you're thinkin' we ain't that young any more...Show a little faith! There's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right.

You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright.

Their voices sing, "Listen . . . listen to what this world is telling you, for it is calling for your love, your rage, your beauty, your sex, your energy, your rebellion . . . because it needs YOU in order to remake itself. In order to be reborn into something else, something maybe better, more godly, more wonderful, it needs US.

One of the great beauties of politics as an art form was its lack of restriction to merely standard forms of realism.

One of the great beauties of politicians as an art form was its lack of restriction to merely standard forms of realism.

His sister wiped at her runny mascara.

Say it clearly and you make it beautiful no matter what.

For ordinary books are like meteors. Each of them has only one moment, a moment when it soars screaming like the phoenix, all its pages aflame. For that single moment we love them ever after, although they soon turn to ashes. With bitter resignation we sometimes wander late at night through the extinct pages that tell their stone dead messages like wooden rosary beads.