Quotes About Beauty

May you learn to appreciate the magic of a firefly and the majesty of a mountain.

I've never seen black men with fine white women. They be ugly. Mugly dogs.

Once long ago in Wisconsin I saw the heavens draped in rich purple auroral clouds fringed and folded in most magnificent forms; but in this glory of light, so pure, so bright, so enthusiastic in motion, there was nothing in the least cloudlike.

It's lovely. I hate it.

Life, with the Soul predominant, Is a noble mosaic, a bewitching arabesque.

Divinely blessed is rose or man That answers to love's whispered plan, And gladly owns it paradise To be love's perfect sacrifice.

To love is to find pleasure in the perfection of another.

I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.

We see a newborn moth unwrapping itself and announce, Look, children, a miracle! But let an irreversible wound be knit back to seamlessness? We won't even see it, though we look at it every day.

This Adonis in loveliness was a corpulent man of fifty.

Colors are the smiles of nature.

Saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.

Mother Nature is not beneficent. She is not maleficent either of course. Merely augustly, majestically capricious.

Any fear of aging, I think, is simply vanity.

I'm a grown woman and sometimes, I might be a little fat, you know? Am I alone there? Not really.

I really like to be able to have variety and to try different things - that's the beauty of fashion.

I look up to my mom. She's a beautiful woman.

I've never had plastic surgery. I still have my own real breasts. I know, because when I lay on my back they roll underneath my arms, and I look like a hammerhead shark.

For Beatrice, when we first met, I was lonely, and you were pretty. Now I am pretty lonely.

Very lovely indeed" —Quigley responding to Violet's comment about the view, while actually looking at her.

The sky was dark blue twilight, pretty to look at but lonely to walk under.

Miracles are like meatballs, because nobody can exactly agree what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear. Some people say that a sunrise is a miracle, because it is somewhat mysterious and often very beautiful, but other people say it is simply a fact of life, because it happens every day and far too early in the morning.

I'm sure you have heard it said that appearance does not matter so much, and that it is what's on the inside that counts. This is, of course, utter nonsense, because if it were true then people who were good on this inside would never have to comb their hair or take a bath, and the whole world would smell even worse than it already does.

For Beatrice— When we met, you were pretty, and I was lonely. Now, I am pretty lonely.