Quotes About Beauty

You never look at anything beautiful and holy, or think a pure and noble thought, without being ever after a larger soul.

Beauty isn't so much a matter of mug as a question of thinks.

Beauty is the spirit of Nature peering through the gloom of sin.... Beauty is Nature's memory of Eden.

Beauty… when you look into a woman's eyes and see what is in her heart.

Did you think Beauty was so easy and merry a companion? Perhaps you were confusing Beauty with Having a Good Time.

Beauty and folly are sisters.

Take time to smell the roses and eventually you'll inhale a bee.

I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.

I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn. The squirrels also grew at last to be quite familiar, and occasionally stepped upon my shoe, when that was the nearest way.

Just then the branches lightly stirred… See, out o' the apple boughs a bird Bursts music-mad into the blue abyss...

Birdsong: a branch of music.

Pink-footed, sleekly white or delicate fawn, Or darlier plumed, with glossy throat where clings One soft perpetual ripple of rainbow rings, How often to your beauty our sight is drawn When back from roamings wide you suddenly dawn, A dainty turbulence of fluttering wings, And light on some brown slanted roof, like Spring's Pale showers of blossoms on an orchard lawn!...

Birdsong is a symphony of the skies.

I like books that glow in their own literary light — on a dark shelf, surrounded by a cloud of glistering stardust.

Nobody is bored when he is trying to make something that is beautiful, or to discover something that is true.

Love is like a butterfly: It goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes.

O wingèd brother on the harebell, stay— Was God's hand very pitiful, the hand That wrought thy beauty at a dream's demand? Yea, knowing I love so well the flowery way, He did not fling me to the world astray— He did not drop me to the weary sand, But bore me gently to a leafy land: Tinting my wings, He gave me to the day.

The ancients did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly!

The green grass and happy skies court the fluttering butterflies.

Butterflies, bees our wingèd, happy friends Oh, to dance in the air and float on the breeze...

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels — except cupcakes.

But the place which you have selected for your camp, though never so rough and grim, begins at once to have its attractions, and becomes a very centre of civilization to you: "Home is home, be it never so homely."

The dog may be wonderful prose, but only the cat is poetry.

High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...