Quotes About Beauty

icicles are daggers of beauty thrown by winter's sunshine breath

Winter starves our bellies but nourishes our souls.

The last faded autumn leaflet hangs from a frozen branch, just a short fall from the tree to winter.

June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter's cold...

It's peeking round the corner Playing hide and seek I see its icy fingers A frost'd rosy cheek — Days fall ever shorter Autumn's air is chilling Warmth no longer lingers Wild things are stilling

Icicles: fossilized raindrops.

I am grateful for the silence of winter mornings, for the beauty and wonder of the glint of sunlight in frost melting to dew, for the early-riser's peaceful solitude that sets a mood of thankfulness, hope, and calm for the dawning day.

Winter is a white-gray paradise blunted of details — the simple season.

Winter stars blaze in silent joy.

In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, An angel-guard of loves and graces lie...

Many women are more attractive at fifty than they were at twenty-five; and if their personality has been developed and enriched by the passing years, they may be more charming at sixty than they were at thirty.

When I glimpse the backs of women's knees I seem to hear the first movement of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony.

Women are angels, wooing...

Women are beautiful, and yummy.

...I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, made my head whirl with new emotion.

Breasts and bosoms have I known Of varied shapes and sizes, From poignant disappointments To jubilant surprizes.

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains — God composes, why shouldn't we?

Old-style cursive handwriting is so elegant — a beautiful garden of words with flowering letters.

...may the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own Country!

There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar always means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.

I don't think then of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.

How come we choose from just two people to run for president and 50 for Miss America?

A candle is a lovely thing; It makes no noise or stir at all, But softly gives itself away, While, quite unselfish, it grows small...

Where the hostess is handsome the wine is good.