Quotes About Beauty

Haiku are tiny seventeen-syllable poems that seek to convey a sudden awareness of beauty by a mating of opposite or incongruous terms.

Por qué florecía aquel loto en medio de una hoguera? ¿Por qué no se marchitaba?

A no ser por la mirada melancólica de sus ojos, cuando pensaba en Oki, nadie habría advertido su tristeza. Y hasta esa ocasional sombra sólo contribuía a acentuar su belleza.

Por qué, entre todos los animales, en el largo curso del mundo, solo los pechos de la hembra humana habían llegado a ser hermosos? ¿No era para la gloria de la raza humana que los pechos femeninos hubiesen adquirido semejante belleza?

Her kimono stood out from her neck,and her back and shoulders were like a white fan spread under it. There was something sad about the full flesh under that white powder. It suggested a woolen cloth,and again it suggested the pelt of some animal.

Una de las muchachas era hermosa. Llevaba un bulto envuelto en un pañuelo con un diseño blanco de mil grullas sobre un fondo rosado de crespón

In the spray the girl stood naked. The facts were different, but in the course of time Eguchi's mind had made them so. As he grew old, the hills of Kyoto and the trunks of the red pines in gentle clusters could sometimes bring the girl back to Eguchi; but memories as vivid as tonight's were rare. Was it the youth of the sleeping girl that invited them?

Un ponte di pietra tra le anime? Meglio allora un arcobaleno. Sì, è possible che il ponte che unisce due anime sia simile a un arcobaleno.

We were watching a battle, but it took clean forms.

It was such a beautiful voice that it struck one as sad. In all its high resonance it seemed to come echoing back across the snowy night.

Quando si vede un arcobaleno si ha l'impressione di essere tra la primavera e l'estate.»

Sì, è possibile che il ponte che unisce due anime sia simile a un arcobaleno.»

He was conscious of an emptiness that made him see Komako's life as beautiful but wasted, even though he himself was the object of her love; and yet the woman's existence, her straining to live, came touching him like naked skin. He pitied her, and he pitied himself.

Mirror becomes a razor when it's broken. A stick becomes a flute when it's loved.

Art is my life and my life is art.

Cosmetics is a boon to every woman, but a girl's best beauty aid is still a near-sighted man.

Chaque pétale qui tombe Vieillit Les branches du prunier

Printemps qui s'en va La beauté Me trahit

Un cerisier Boude Le printemps

What could be poetic in a pigsty enveloped in so many curses?

Yes, wilderness for its own sake, without any need to justify it for human benefit.

I am seized by two contradictory feelings: there is so much beauty in the world it is incredible that we are ever miserable for a moment; there is so much shit in the world that it is incredible we are ever happy for a moment.

She represents love, beauty, purity, the ideal female and the moon...and she's the mystère of jealousy, vengeance and discord, AND, on the other hand, of love, perpetual help, goodwill, health, beauty and fortune.

Claire spoke often in her poetry of the idea of fittingness: that is, when your chosen pursuit and your ability to achieve it--no matter how small or insignificant both might be--are matched exactly, are fitting. This, Claire argued, is when we become truly human, fully ourselves, beautiful....In Claire's presence, you were not faulty or badly designed, no, not at all. You were the fitting receptacle and instrument of your talents and beliefs and desires.