Quotes About Beauty

Hunting hawks do not belong in cages, no matter how much a man covets their grace, no matter how golden the bars. They are far more beautiful soaring free. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

A hundred objective measurements didn't sum the worth of a garden only the delight of its users did that. Only the use made it mean something.

We should have taken our chances back then, when we were young and beautiful and didn't even know it.

Age becomes reality when you hear someone refer to that attractive young woman standing next to the woman in the green dress, and you find that you're the one in the green dress.

It was the freshness and the newness of your beauty and you, the mystery of you, that won your man. When a man has plucked and smelled all the sweetness of a flower, he looks for other flowers. It is his queerness. You must ever remain a flower almost plucked yet never plucked, stored with vats of sweet unbroached though ever broached.

Hawaii is a paradise--and I can never cease proclaiming it; but I must append one word of qualification: Hawaii is a paradise for the well-to-do.

I have seen the paintings from the air brushed by the hand of God.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work, rather than its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as the bad heart of Procrustes turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture.

Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught The dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!

Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.

There was never any yet that wholly could escape love, and never shall there be any, never so long as beauty shall be, never so long as eyes can see.

For there was never any yet that wholly could escape love, and never shall there be any, never so long as beauty shall be, never so long as eyes can see.

Daphnis is beautiful, yes, but so are the flowers. His pipe sends forth beautiful sounds, yes, but so do the nightingales. But no words come to me about those things. I wish that I could be his pipe so he could breathe into me all day. — - Longus, Daphnis and Chloe

For this will cure him that is sick, and rouse him that is in dumps; one that has loved, it will remember of it; one that has not, it will instruct. For there was never any yet that wholly could escape love, and never shall there be any, never so long as beauty shall be, never so long as eyes can see. But help me that God to write the passions of others; and while I write, keep me in my own right wits.

Todo es vana arquitectura, porque dijo un sabio un día que a los sastres se debía la mitad de la hermosura.

Es la mujer del hombre lo más bueno, y locura decir que lo más malo; su vida suele ser y su regalo, su muerte suele ser y su veneno. Cielo a los ojos, cándido y sereno, que muchas veces al infierno igualo; por bueno, al Mundo, su valor señalo; por malo, al hombre, su rigor condeno. Ella nos da su sangre, ella nos cría; no

Nise: Bien lo merece Eliodoro, griego poeta divino. Celia: ¿Poeta? Pues parecióme prosa. Nise: También hay poesía en prosa.

Es tan bella que el mismo sol la envidia.

I like to maintain a certain sense of fantasy in my life. I am kind of like that at home. Do I have the full hair and makeup? No. But I might have the nice dress on.

Sissy wasn't really beautiful, but men never noticed. With her deep green eyes, her shoulder-length auburn hair that swung when she moved, and the way she moved as if she enjoyed just being inside her body, men had always paid her lots of attention.

Belle]'d fallen in love with him at fifteen, galloping down clay roads with the leaves of autumn swirling around them. They'd discovered the nooks and crannies of passion in his mother's darkened parlor on a rolling sea of dark wine velvet, amid a flotilla of lacy white antimacassars...

Never let me lose the marvel of your statue eyes or the accent that by night the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek.