Quotes About Beauty

I think I'd like to be beautiful and heartless for a while, just to see what it's like.

And yet, if she wasn't pretty, she didn't know it. She spoke and walked and moved her hands as if she were bewitchingly pretty. And for some reason, it was hard to take your eyes off her. I guess a novel would have said it was the play of her features. She was lively; she was animated; her lips curved with mischief, and her small eyes sparkled. I wonder if my features ever play. I bet they don

In his view of what he wanted from the world, there were an infinity of moments that were beautiful, as this one was beautiful, with the light from the town hall gilding her jawline and shining off her hair in the cold northern night that made him want to pull her in and warm them both. "And

He felt as if he were blooming outward, his heart one of their own roses unfurling in deepest winter, which scared him because...well, roses that bloomed in the winter got frozen in the cold.

English is a beautiful language, a remarkably precise language with a million words to choose from to deliver your exact shade of meaning.

Gorgeous' you say in English and he likes that word tasting it like wine.

You know why we'll never give up cars—because riding in cars at night is so beautiful, it's telling stories in a cave with the darkness kept out, the dash lights for the embers of the fire.

Para la chica del báculo, la de los ojos bonitos, la que no quiero volver a ver llorar.

La belleza existe para que podamos apreciarla, y no entiende de cultos, de religiones ni de creencias.

Alzó el vuelo y se alejó hacia el sol naciente, y sus alas parecían arder a la luz del alba como si estuviesen envueltas en llamas.

Es lo que suele suceder con las personas y con los objetos más asombrosos -se dijo-. Nunca lo parecen a simple vista.

Sempre hi ha alguna cosa bonica i fascinant en l'horror més pur.

La amo. La mujer que yo veo cuando la miro es la mujer de mis versos, porque no la miro con los ojos de la cara, sino con los ojos del corazón

Viana se acurrucó entre sus raíces y escuchó su canción, y después cantó con él.

A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.

The beauty of the human soul Is not the pretty face. It's found within the heart and hands Of those who look — and stay.

His old riot of black hair was now a translucent scrim of white, but his blue eyes still threw sparks.

Such beauty, he thought, was too perfect to have come about by mere chance. That day in the center of the Pacific was, to him, a gift crafted deliberately, compassionately, for him and Phil. Joyful and grateful in the midst of slow dying, the two men bathed in that day until sunset brought is, and their time in the doldrums, to an end.

The true way to live is to enjoy every moment as it passes, and surely it is in the everyday things around us that the beauty of life lies.

Then she stopped on one tree, one that must be dying. The branches were bare, stark, hardly moving in the wind. How was it Iris had never noticed this tree before? Such a delicate web of boughs and knots and air, it made her feel for the bare branches, made her feel she too was a bare branch, all alone in the air, and made her want to possess, to own, the beauty of those branches. But how?

An autumn breeze, a string of words, a star-filled sky— all are poetry.

Art teaches art.

Autumn when the trees shake loose their garments and we bundle in our own.

Autumn is a place where words fall short. It is a magic that must be felt, breathed, experienced, and treasured."