Quotes About Beauty

the leaves were dancing here and there, as though

could I have envisaged the woman to be their mother, she would be exactly like you. Strong, devoted to God. And beautiful. Only now, since you have become my wife, do I begin to understand what love is. What our Lord desires for his bride. His followers. Now I know why he was willing to die.

This is my present, also yours, free to choose. I am here at your side, alive, and no ghost. Let beauty and care forge the weapons tonight.

What is our experience, but the reflected truth of our misapprehensions and short-falls? And also the grace of our beauty and strength, and the wise choices that make up our character?

Tory smokes, sitting on the floor with her impeccable posture, the gang of disciples around her. A few are straight, two gay, a couple in between, none more beautiful than her, most of them broken, half parasitic and half delightful. She

Your "imperfection" might be another's fetish.

These days a scientist is not supposed to detect intelligence in the miracle of cosmos or beauty in a bird of paradise, though he's always quick to be excited by beauty in his own theories.

Pretty?' I said, swivelling in the driver's seat to face him, 'you want to ask me out because I'm pretty?' 'Is there a problem with asking you out because you're pretty?' 'I think you blew it,' said Tiger with a grin. 'You should be asking her out because she's smart, witty, mature beyond her years and every moment in her company makes you want to be a better person - pretty of face should be at the bottom of the list.' 'Oh, blast,' said Perkins despondently. 'It should, shouldn't it?

About ten degrees upslope of Fiction, I could see our nearest neighbor: Artistic Criticism. It was an exceptionally beautiful island, yet deeply troubled, confused and suffused with a blanketing layer of almost impenetrable bullshit.

extraordinary; I could almost see the Cambrian Mountains

Wales: not ALWAYS raining

You're talking about gold and silver, cash and securities. I'm talking about the sheer beauty of the land, the value of unpolluted parkland made wild and staying wild forever.

Aber als ich mich beruhigt hatte, ist mir klar geworden, dass diese Welt, so verdorben und unvollkommen sie ist, schöner wäre, wenn du in ihr bliebest.<

We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.

Fine buildings, fine pictures and books and everything that is beautiful are certainly signs of civilization. But an even better sign is a fine man who is unselfish and works with others for the good of all. To work together is better than to work singly, and to work together for the common good is best of all.

The approaching storm turns the surface of the sea to steel and silver. Only danger reflects clearly from such a mirror.

Le jardin dormait encore. Je l'ai surpris, nourrice. Je l'ai vu sans qu'il s'en doute. C'est beau un jardin qui ne pense pas encore aux hommes.

Le géant, qui souffrait, blessé, De mille morts, de mille peines, Eut un sourire triste et beau ; Et, avant de mourir, regardant le roseau, Lui dit : « Je suis encore un chêne. »

The anxiety specific to leisure and the Coast. Too many forms of natural beauty artificially brought together. Too many villas, too many flowers. Villegiatura, nomenklatura: the same struggle. The same artificial privilege, whether it be that of the political bureaucracy or the luxuriance of lifestyle. Nature putrefied by leisure, purged of all barbarity, sickeningly comfortable - one day perhaps this dream climate, this heatwave of luxury will explode into one last forest fire.

As flat as the earth before they noticed it was round. As ambiguous as the truth before they noticed it was true. As real as reality before they noticed it didn't exist. As beautiful as a woman before they noticed she wasn't one. And is the earth really round? It is when seen from another world. Just as the real is real only from our phenomenal point of view. Or, rather, from the viewpoint of the unverifiable hypothesis of its non- existence.

A woman is beautiful only if she is naked beneath her clothes. A thought is beautiful only if it is naked beneath language. In other words, violent. Each sentence is the spark of a will to power.

Poetry, being elegance itself, cannot hope to achieve visibility. It insists on living its own life.

Poetry is a machine that manufactures love. Its other virtues escape me.

The amazing advance public attention to this film is surely due not so much to us (I mean to the curiosity our undertaking arouses) as to that Beauty and Beast we thrilled over as children. Happily, there is some remnant of childhood in this jaded public. It is this childhood we must reach. It is the incredulous reserve of the adults that we must overcome.