Quotes About Beauty

Truth has beauty, power and necessity.

I've had the joy of spending thousands of hours under the sea. I wish I could take people along to see what I see, and to know what I know.

I have a talent for happiness. I look with the eyes of a painter, and I see beauty.

Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

And now IFoam to wheat, a glitter of seas.

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

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

Laura took them into her arms. The great fans of orange tracery seemed to her even more beautiful than the chrysanthemums, for they had been given to her, they were a surprise. She sniffed. They smelt of woods, of dark rustling woods like the wood to whose edge she came so often in the country of her autumn imagination.

To-day I wish that I were a tree, And not myself, Confronting spring with a neat little row of poems Like cups and saucers on a shelf. ... But as I am only a woman And not a tree, With piteous human care I have made this poem, And set it now on the shelf with the rest to be. - Wish in Spring

London life was very full and exciting [...] But in London there would be no greenhouse with a glossy tank, and no apple-room, and no potting-shed, earthy and warm, with bunches of poppy heads hanging from the ceiling, and sunflower seeds in a wooden box, and bulbs in thick paper bags, and hanks of tarred string, and lavender drying on a tea-tray.

Was it for pleasure that you followed them Putting off your slippers at the door To dance barefoot and blood-foot in the snow? No. What then? What glamoured you? No glamour at all; Only that I remembered I was young And had to put myself into a song. How could time bear witness that I was tall, Silken, and made for love, if I did not so? I do not know. - Earl Cassilis's Lady

Rainbows apologize for angry skies.

I feel my skin growing warm. But it isn't the fact that Gussy told Effie about Eva, about everything that happened, but rather that someone would see beauty in the story. The idea that someone could hear about what happened all those years ago and not be disgusted, horrified, by all the tragedies that followed, that someone could find a sliver of the goodness, the beauty, I cling to is almost more than I can handle.

My mother taught me how to find grace in wreckage. She taught me not how to reassemble, but how to rearrange. The stained-glass pictures she made were certain evidence that things can be broken and put back together, and that the mended thing will be more beautiful than the original.

The ocean is like a beautiful, strong woman. She can be loving and nurturing…; or wickedly evil.

Let a young maiden, who would preserve her beauty, preserve the purity of soul, those sweet qualities of the mind, those virtues, in short, by which she first drew her lover to her feet.

When custom has made familiar the charms that are most attractive, when youthful freshness has died away, and with the brightness of domestic life more and more shadows have mingled, then ... and not till then, can the wife say of the husband, "He is worthy of love;" then, first, the husband say of the wife, "She blooms in imperishable beauty."

Garlic and sapphires in the mudClot the bedded axle-tree.The trilling wire in the bloodSings below inveterate scarsAnd reconciles forgotten wars.

When lovely woman stoops to folly andPaces about her room again, alone,She smooths her hair with automatic hand,And puts a record on the gramophone.

Uncorseted, her friendly bustGives promise of pneumatic bliss.

Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—Lean on a garden urn—Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

The spirit of a person's life is ever shedding some power, just as a flower is steadily bestowing fragrance upon the air.

Lying in a position of classic repose, Winnifred had never been more beautiful. Her silvery gold hair cascaded over the oaken door upon which she lay. A bright waterfall, it pooled on the deep green felt of the billiard table where the door rested. Her sightless blue eyes stared up at the plastered ceiling, her face a study in serenity and peace. I had never seen violent death leave a corpse so lovely.

Some are rich and some are poor. Some are beautiful, some aren't. Some are brilliant, some aren't. But when we get sick—then, everybody is equal. Everybody must have equal right to the best medical treatment we can provide.