Quotes About Beauty

Her garden was not Eden; it was so much more than that.

Nothing was out there that this sister-girl did not provide in abundance: a racing heart, dreaminess, society, danger, beauty. She swallowed twice to prepare for the telling, to construct out of the strings she had heard all her life a net to hold beloved.

At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough.

But there is nothing to beat what the City can make of a nightsky. It can empty itself of surface, and more like the ocean than the ocean itself, go deep, starless.

Pauline felt uncomfortable with the few black women she met. They were amused by her because she did not straighten her hair. When she tried to make up her face as they did, it came off rather badly. Their goading glances and private snickers at her way of talking (saying "chil'ren") and dressing developed in her a desire for new clothes.

The day breeze blew her dress dry; the night wind wrinkled it.

Long ago, before I met her, she twisted her blond hair into dreadlocks and, pretty as she is, the locks add an allure she wouldn't otherwise have.

At some point in life the worlds beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough

We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain make us glow with health, her awkwardness made us think we had a sense of humour. Her inarticulateness made us believe we were eloquent. Her poverty kept us generous...We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty...

How loose the silk. How fine and loose and free.

At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to. When that happens-- that letting go-- you let go because you can.

I must confess, though, that I sometimes lose interest in the characters and get much more interested in the trees and animals. I think I exercise tremendous restraint in this, but my editor says, 'Would you stop this beauty business.' And I say, 'Wait, wait until I tell you about these ants.

If there is somebody with bluer eyes than mine, then maybe there is somebody with the bluest eyes. The bluest eyes in the whole world.

At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough. No record of it needs to be kept and you don't need someone to share it with or tell it to.

Adults, older girls, shops, magazines, newspapers, window signs—all the world had agreed that a blue-eyed, yellow-haired, pink-skinned doll was what every girl child treasured.

Foxglove grows waist high around the gazebo, and roses, which all the time hate our soil, rage here, with more thorns than blackberries and weeks of beet red blossoms. The wood siding of the hotel looks silver-plated, its peeling paint like the streaks on an unpolished tea service.

belleza no era simplemente algo que contemplar, era algo que una podía hacer.

Sweetheart. That's what the weather was called. Sweetheart weather, the prettiest day of the year.

a dream is just a nightmare with lipstick

Fire. How quick. How purposefully it ate whatever had been built, what had been life. Cleansing somehow and scandalous in beauty.

At some point in life the world's beautify becomes enough. You don't need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.

Have you ever seen the way a cloud loves a mountain? from Song of Solomon

she would never know her beauty. She would see only what there was to see: the eyes of other people.

Kendini ancak keÅŸiÅŸlerin anlayabileceÄŸi sanatlara kapt?rmam?? ve doÄŸaya kar??abilen baÅŸka bir varl??a dönüÅŸmemiÅŸ olsa yaln?zl?k onu ezip geçerdi. KuÅŸlarla ÅŸakala??yor, bitkilerle sohbet ediyor, sincaplarla konuÅŸuyor, ineÄŸe ÅŸark? söyleyip aÄŸz?n? yaÄŸmur suyuyla dolduruyordu.