Quotes About Beauty

Era amore, si disse […] amore che non cercava mai di afferrare il suo oggetto; ma, come l'amore che i matematici portano alle formule, o i poeti alle loro frasi, era destinato a diffondersi su tutto il mondo e a diventare parte della ricchezza umana.

Dünyan?n öylesine çabuk yitip gidecek güzelliÄŸinin iki ucu vard?r, biri kahkaha diÄŸeri kederdir ve kalbi paramparça ederler.

The birds sing in chorus; deep tunnels run between the stalks of flowers; the house is whitened; the sleeper stretches; gradually all is astir. Light floods the room and drives shadow beyond shadow to where they hang in folds inscrutable. What does the central shadow hold? Something? Nothing? I do not know.

Beauty had this penalty—it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life—froze it. One forgot the little agitations; the flush, the pallor, some queer distortion, some light or shadow, which made the face unrecognisable for a moment and yet added a quality one saw for ever after. It was simpler to smooth that all out under the cover of beauty.

made up, as one makes up the better part of life...making oneself up; ...creating an exquisite amusement...

She was climbing up those branches, this way and that, laying hands on one flower and then another. Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose, she read, and so reading she was ascending, she felt, on to the top, on to the summit. How satisfying! How restful! All the odds and ends of the day stuck to this magnet; her mind felt swept, felt clean. And then there it was, suddenly entire; she held it in her hands, beautiful and reasonable, clear and complete, here—the sonnet.

she often went into her garden and got from her flowers a peace which men and women never gave her.

As for the beauty of women, it is like the light on the sea, never constant to a single wave. They all have it; they all lose it. Now she is dull and thick as bacon; now transparent as a hanging glass.

The sound of the trumpets died away and Orlando stood stark naked. No human being, since the world began, has ever looked more ravishing. His form combined in one the strength of a man and a woman's grace.

Now glancing this side, that side, they looked deeper, beneath the flowers, down the dark avenues into the unlit world where the leaf rots and the flower has fallen.

Far away a bell tolls, but not for death. There are bells that ring for life. A leaf falls, from joy. Oh, I am in love with life!

that beautiful voice which made everything she said sound like a caress

Should I seek out some tree? Should I desert these form rooms and libraries, and the broad yellow page in which I read Catullus, for woods and fields? Should I walk under beech trees, or saunter along the river bank, where the trees meet united like lovers in the water? But nature is too vegetable, too vapid. She has only sublimities and vastitudes and water and leaves. I begin to wish for firelight, privacy, and the limbs of one person.

Ma Peter - non importa quanto fosse bella la giornata, e gli alberi e l'erba, e la fanciulla vestita di rosa - Peter non vedeva mai nulla. Se lei glielo chiedeva, si metteva gli occhiali; guardava. Ma era lo stato del mondo che gli interessava: Wagner, la poesia di Pope, il carattere della gente, e i difetti dell'anima di lei.

Nothing should be named lest by doing so we change it. Let it exist, this bank, this beauty, and I, for one instant, steeped in pleasure.

This was now revealed to Septimus; the message hidden in the beauty of words. The secret signal which one generation passes, under disguise, to the next is loathing, hatred, despair.

the grass still a soft deep green, the house starred in its greenery with purple passion flowers, and rooks dropping cool cries from the high blue. But something moved, flashed, turned a silver wing in the air.

Részei lettek annak a valószer?tlen, de átható és izgató mindenségnek, ami a szerelem szemével nézve a világ.

Non aveva voglia di morire. La era bella. Il sole caldo. E gli esseri umani?

acolo, de-a curmeziÈ™ul golfului È™i printre dune, z?cea prietenia lui, p?strîndu-È™i întreaga vitalitate È™i realitate, asemenea cadavrului unui tîn?r care ar fi r?mas îngropat un secol în turb?, conservîndu-È™i roÈ™eaÈ›a proasp?t? a buzelor.

Szerelem ez, gondolta Lily, ahogy mintha vásznával bíbelÅ'dött volna, párolt és lesz?rt szerelem; szerelem, mely tárgyát megragadni sosem akarná; szerelem, amit matematikusok éreznek képleteik, költÅ'k verssoraik iránt, és mintha az lett volna a célja ennek a szerelemnek, hogy a világon szétoszolva az emberüdv része legyen.

Uno de ellos cantaba bajo la ventana del dormitorio; otro posado en la rama mas alta de las lilas; un tercero sobre el reborde del muro. Todos cantaban con una voz estridente, apasionada, vehemente, que parecía que iba a hacerles estallar el corazón, sin cuidarse de la áspera disonancia producida con el canto del pájaro vecino.

En cualquier caso, parecía todo luz, resplandeciente, como un pájaro o un etéreo plumón que hubiera entrado con un soplo de viento y se hubiese posado un instante en una zarza.

Stepping through fields of flowers and taking to her brest buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen; with the stars in her eyes and wind in her hair– he took her bag.