Quotes About Beauty

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece.

A beautiful woman is a car crash. Shiny asphalt and smoking rubber. Melted plastic and metal edges. Glimmering glass shrapnel iridescence scattered across the road. Haphazard beauty. Dignified and slightly terrifying.

Thank you for warming the industrial gray of my concrete foundation and turning my bones from cement blocks to rich mahogany wood.

A beautiful woman is a car crash

Fair queen, at home there is none like thee, But over the mountains is Snow-white free, With seven little dwarfs, who are strange to see; A thousand times fairer than thou is she. Queen, thou art not the fairest now; Snow-white over the mountain's brow A thousand times fairer is than thou. Queen, thou art the fairest here, But not when Snow-white is near; Over the mountains still is she, Fairer a thousand times than thee.

Art involves forgetfulness of immediate ends; complete surrender to the inward impulse to give form to the beautiful idea or image of truth because it is beautiful.

conditions, an effort to reconcile the spirit which loves freedom and goodness and beauty with its harsh, bare and disappointing conditions. It is, in its earliest form, a spontaneous and instinctive endeavor to shape the facts of the world to meet the needs

embroidered with the brightest gold, and all over enriched with pearls. The hands next brought him an elegant dressing-table

I should like it to be as fair as snow, as rosy as the red blood, and with hair and eyes as black as ebony.

There were moments of a morning or at sunset when the plain was splendid as a tranquil sea, and in such moments I bowed down to its mysterious beauty--but for the most part it seemed an empty, desolate, mocking world.

Hardship and ease walk hand-in-hand in this world, and embracing them both as being from the same benevolent source ensures that we walk with gratitude for our blessings and gratefulness for our challenges. We sincerely believe that mercy pervades the cosmos, and in recognizing that, we reconnect with the hope of spring, the serenity of summer, the beauty of autumn, and the majesty of winter. Each comes with its gifts, and each call us to reflect.

The onus is on us as a community to really put forward a different face for our religion, for our community, and for our Lord, and for our Prophet, peace be upon him, because it's really unacceptable that a religion with all of this beauty should be painted with such ugly strokes. So we're really here trying to paint a beautiful picture of our faith in action.

it. When the Prophet saw a reflection of himself—and he was a beautiful man—he would make the following supplication: "O God, as You have made my countenance most excellent, make my character most excellent." Imam Mawl?d says that to rid oneself of vanity or to prevent it from entering one's heart, one should reflect long and hard on the fact that all blessings are entirely from God and that one cannot produce any benefit or harm without His permission.

Politics don't stop love. He will say to her: "You are as beautiful as our new hydro-electric plant." And she will reply: "Comrade, how progressive of you.

Pearls around the neck - stones upon the heart.

Plants bloom with flowers, people bloom with smiles

The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses.

By its very nature the beautiful is isolated from everything else. From beauty no road leads to reality.

He took his pain and turned it into something beautiful. Into something that people connect to. And that's what good music does. It speaks to you. It changes you.

Humble yourself, and you will find that Love is spreading a carpet of flowers beneath your feet.

Then as she looked up in his face, he smiled most sweetly and said something he had never said before, "You have one real beauty, Much-Afraid, you have such trustful eyes. Trust is one of the much beautiful things in the world. When I look at the trust in your eyes I find you more beautiful to look upon than many a lovely queen.

I am not fair save to the King, Though fair my royal dress, His kingly grace is lavished on My need and worthlessness. My blemishes he will not see But loves the beauty that shall be.

The voice of my Beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills" (Song of Solomon 2:8).

Clarimonde sitzt am Fenster und spinnt. Fäden, lange, dünne, unendlich feine Fäden. Sie macht ein Gewebe daraus, ich weiß nicht, was es werden soll. Und ich kann nicht begreifen, wie sie dies Netz machen kann, ohne immer wieder die zarten Fäden zu verwirren und zu zerreißen. Es sind wunderliche Muster in ihrer feinen Arbeit, Fabeltiere und merkwürdige Fratzen.