Quotes About Beauty

the winds and waves disported themselves like the amorphous bulks of leviathans whose brows are pierced by no light of reason...

It's on the field, it's on the pane, it's in the sky — beauty; and I can't get at it; I can't have it — I, she seemed to add, with that little clutch of the hand which was so characteristic, who adore it so passionately, would give the whole world to possess it!

The words we seek hang close to the tree. We come at dawn and find them sweet beneath the leaf.

beauty glowing, suddenly expressive, withdrawn the moment after. No one can count on it or seize it or have it wrapped in paper. Nothing is to be won from the shops, and Heaven knows it would be better to sit at home than haunt the plate-glass windows in the hope of lifting the shining green, the glowing ruby, out of them alive.

And of course she enjoyed life immensely. It was her nature to enjoy. Anyhow there was not bitterness in her; none of that sense of moral virtue which is so repulsive in good women. She enjoyed practically everything. If you walked with her in Hyde Park now it was a bed of tulips, now a child in a perambulator, now some absurd little drama she made up on the spur of the moment.

It was January. Snow was falling; snow had fallen all day. The sky spread like a grey goose's wing from which feathers where falling all over England.

What is meant by 'reality'? It would seem something very erratic, very undependable-now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now in a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech-and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Picadilly.

Raising her eyebrows at the discrepancy – that was what she was thinking, this was what she was doing – ladling out soup – she felt, more and more strongly, outside that eddy; or as if a shade had fallen, and, robbed of colour, she saw things truly. The room (she looked round it) was very shabby. There was no beauty anywhere.

Nunca más me estrellaré contra un farol (pero algunas estrellas proyectadas por la violencia de aquel choque resplandecen aún hermosamente en mi noche)

But for a moment I had sat on the turf somewhere high above the flow of the sea and the sound of the woods, had seen the house, the garden, and the waves breaking. The old nurse who turns the pages of the picture book had stopped and had said, 'Look. This is the truth.

Damn it, Madam, you are loveliness incarnate," which was the truth.

Ma la bellezza non era tutto. La bellezza aveva questo guaio: veniva troppo immediatamente, veniva troppo completamente. Fermava la vita - la gelava. Ci si dimenticava le piccole agitazioni; l'arrossire, il pallore, qualche strana distorsione, qualche luce o ombra, che rendeva per un momento riconoscibile la faccia e tuttavia le dava una qualità che in seguito si vedeva per sempre.

El tiempo vuela, oh sí; el verano pronto estará aquí; y todavía soy capaz de pasmarme ante ello. El mundo volverá a dar media vuelta, y pondrá su verde y su azul muy cerca de mis ojos.

She wore ear-rings, and a silver-green mermaid's dress. Lolloping on the waves and braiding her tresses she seemed, having that gift still; to be; to exist; to sum it all up in the moment as she passed; turned, caught her scarf in some other woman's dress, unhitched it, laughed, all with the most perfect ease and air of a creature floating in its element. But age had brushed her; even as a mermaid might behold in her glass the setting sun on some very clear evening over the waves.

And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be, are full of trees and changing leaves

The sky is blue,' he said, 'the grass is green.' Looking up, he saw that, on the contrary, the sky is like the veils which a thousand Madonnas have let fall from their hair; and the grass fleets and darkens like a flight of girls fleeing the embraces of hairy satyrs from enchanted woods.

He turned and saw her. Ah! She was lovely, lovelier now than ever he thought. But he could not speak to her. He could not interrupt her. He wanted urgently to speak to her now that James was gone and she was alone at last. But he resolved, no; he would not interrupt her. She was aloof from him now in her beauty, in her sadness. He would let her be, and he passed her without a word, though it hurt him that she should look so distant, and he could not reach her, he could do nothing to help her.

Knitting her reddish-brown hairy stocking, with her head outlined absurdly by the gilt frame, the green shawl which she had tossed over the edge of the frame, and the authenticated masterpiece by Michael Angelo, Mrs. Ramsay smoothed out what had been harsh in her manner a moment before, raised his head, and kissed her little boy on the forehead. Let us find another picture to cut out, she said.

stopping to exclaim at the beauty of the cabbage leaves in the moonlight

There is a certain 'beauty' in illness - one is alone - one reads - one thinks - one sees only the people one like seeing. (27 (?)/5/1928) - From a Letter to Duncan Grant)

Divinamente hermoso es también divinamente despiadado.

Feia vent, i de tant en tant les fulles deixaven a la vista una estrella, i semblava que les estrelles mateixes s'estremissin i projectessin la seva llum per mirar d'esquitllar-se per entre les vores de les fulles.

There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near'; And the white rose weeps, 'She is late'; The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear'; And the lily whispers, 'I wait.

one must pay back from this secret deposit of exquisite moments, she thought