Quotes About Beauty

Believe that the world is an ethereal flower, and ye live.

I ate apple pie and ice cream—it was getting better as I got deeper into Iowa, the pie bigger, the ice cream richer. There were the most beautiful bevies of girls everywhere I looked in Des Moines that afternoon—they were coming home from high school—but I had no time for thoughts like that…So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.

She was a nice little girl, simple and true, and tremendously frightened of sex. I told her it was beautiful. I wanted to prove this to her. She let me prove it, but I was too impatient and proved nothing.

It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.

Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields.

What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?" She didn't know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines.

And all the insects ceased in honor of the moon.

The little flowers grew everywhere around the rocks, and no one had asked them to grow, or me to grow.

Meanwhile the sunsets are mad orange fools raging in the gloom....

I like it because its ugly

I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air - air you can kiss - and palms.

Everything was everlastingly loose and responsive, it was all everywhere beyond the truth, beyond emptyspace blue. The mountains are mighty patient, Buddha-man, I said out loud, and took a drink.

Who doesn't feel studious when he doesn't have a girl with a Riviera suntan?

Believe in the holy contour of life

What is a rainbow, Lord? A hoop for the lowly.

He lived with his mother, father and sister; had a room of his own, with the fourth-floor windows staring on seas of rooftops and the glitter of winter nights when home lights brownly wave beneath the heater whiter blaze of stars--those stars that in the North, in the clear nights, all hang frozen tears by the billions, with January Milky Ways like silver taffy, veils of frost in the stillness, huge blinked, throbbing to the slow beat of time and universal blood.

Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.

The old tree brooded over me silently, a living thing. I heard a mouse snoring in the garden weeds. The rooftops of Berkeley looked like pitiful living meat sheltering grieving phantoms from the enternality of the heavens which they feared to face. By the time I went to bed I wasn't taken in by no Princess or no desire for no Princess and nobody's disapproval and I felt glad and slept well.

I could have made my whole life like that morning just on the strength of pure understanding and willingness to live and go along, God it was all the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me in its own way - but it was all sinister.

We stopped in the unimaginable softness (293).

Beautiful girls Just primp But beautiful boys Do suffer.

Every now and then a clear harmonic cry gave new suggestions of a tune that would someday be the only tune in the word and would raise mean's souls to joy.

I wonder why our life must quiver between beauty and guilt, consummation and sadness, desire and regret, immortality and tattered moments unknowable, truth and beautiful meaningful lies.