Quotes About Beauty

Era um rio podre, contudo eu ainda via alguma graça ali onde ele fazia a curva, no modo peculiar daquela curva, penso que a curva é o gesto de um rio. E assim o reconheci, como às vezes se reconhece num homem velho o trejeito infantil, mais lento apenas.

Houve um tempo em que, se tivesse de optar entre duas cegueiras, escolheria ser cego ao esplendor do mar, às montanhas, ao pôr-do-sol do Rio de Janeiro, para ter olhos de ler o que há de belo, em letras negras sobre fundo branco.

Al final de tantos sinsabores, creo que hasta me he vuelto más guapo, como sucede a quien sufre un proceso sin saber por qué.

It is our destiny to be born beautiful into an ugly age.

I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one near or far To keep the world from being mine.

Spiders are busy spinning webs in the grass, in the bushes, wherever there is prey to be caught... made of silken strands only a few millionths of an inch thick but stronger than steel. Structures that are pure beauty when jeweled with morning dewdrops.

The Spider is a lovely lady. She knows just what to do. She weaves a dainty web to catch the morning dew...

Oh, Spring is surely coming, Her couriers fill the air; Each morn are new arrivals, Each night her ways prepare; I scent her fragrant garments, Her foot is on the stair.

And now every field is clothed with grass, every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms; now the year assumes its gayest attire.

A fine spring is good for everybody.

Springtime is the bringer of light...

...spring-time, when that soft air is breathing over the blossoms and new-born verdure...

Spring is a happiness so beautiful, so unique, so unexpected, that I don't know what to do with my heart. I dare not take it, I dare not leave it — what do you advise?

...the sweet wildflower breath of spring...

Springtime flowers bloom like colorful arrows piercing their way to the sun.

At length the sun's rays have attained the right angle, and warm winds blow up mist and rain and melt the snow-banks, and the sun dispersing the mist smiles on a checkered landscape of russet and white smoking with incense, through which the traveller picks his way from islet to islet, cheered by the music of a thousand tinkling rills and rivulets whose veins are filled with the blood of winter which they are bearing off.

As Earth sways us from winter to spring Nature begins her grace of glorious green

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!... The brooks sing carols and glees to the spring... The grass flames up on the hill sides like a spring fire... as if the earth sent forth an inward heat to greet the returning sun; not yellow but green is the color of its flame...

A poet dips words into springtime to season her poems with beauty.

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there: Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came, And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame...

I'll tell you how the Sun rose – A Ribbon at a time....

The sunrise opened above them like some cosmic explosion, shining and shattering and yet silent; as if the world were blown to pieces without a sound. Round the rays of the victorious sun swept a sort of rainbow of confused and conquered colours — brown and blue and green and flaming rose-colour; as though gold were driving before it all the colours of the world.

The desert sunset clouds exhale pink puffs of dusky smoke.

sunrise glows in carpe-diem pink aflame with marbled-gold moments