Quotes About Beauty

It's a beautiful, terrible, world, isn't it?

Much of the world is beautiful, and much more is at least fair to the eye, and what might be ugly is nevertheless of the same texture as everything else and clearly belongs in the tapestry.

This fair world, compounded of uncountable beauties and enchantments and graces, inspired in me only one abiding fear, which was that I might live in it too long.

Sudden falls can come to societies that know too little history or that have furnished their minds with easy one-note propaganda in place of the true complexity and terrible beauty of the storied past.

Then the clarifying thing happens, and what you need to do, what you must do, is not a question, not demand more revelation than what is given, be quiet in the face of it, quiet and grateful that it has been given to you to see this, to be for even a short time aware of the extraordinary layered depths and profound beauty of the world to which we mostly blind ourselves.

I've seen things that I don't understand but that nonetheless delight me.

Knowing the names of things is a way to pay respect to the beauty of the world...

Ah, sir, that's just mean. She's not a Victoria's Secret model. but she's pretty in her way.

His base sins were envy - of beauty, of happiness - and pride, bending the whole world to his view of creation, and these were the greatest sins of all, the same transgressions over which the devil himself, once an archangel, had stumbled and fallen a long way out of Heaven.

No one's life should be rooted in fear. We are born for wonder, for joy, for hope, for love, to marvel at the mystery of existence, to be ravished by the beauty of the world, to seek truth and meaning, to acquire wisdom, and by our treatment of others to brighten the corner where we are.

Siempre resplandece el cielo antes del anochecer.

She watched a serrated formation of brown pelicans slice the sky and leave no scar.

She has these dark eyes as deep as galaxies. It's easy to get lost in them.

she drove slowly into town as the gold and rose fingers of the dawn reached toward fading stars that eluded them.

Maybe if everything was beautiful, nothing would be.

When I was a child, which was a shorter period of time for me than it was for most people, my mother sometimes implied that she might take me with her if she decided to consummate her romance with Death. My mother is beautiful, and to anyone who never lived with her, she seems to be a genteel and pleasant lady, if slightly aloof.

A two-dollar pump. A bitch. A scuz. But gorgeous.

She's not seen it a tenth this bright on any previous night.

THREE BUTTERFLIES, AERIAL GEISHAS, DANCED out of the sunshine, into the porch shadows. Their silken kimonos flaring and folding and flaring in graceful swirls of color, as bashful as faces hidden behind the pleats of hand-painted fans, they fled, quick, into the brightness from which they had come.

Once the golden phase had passed, the sun used only the red and orange spectrum of its palette to paint the sky in advance of the long night of darkness, and by reflection the harbor waters caught fire.

She was only twenty-two, and although she had not been gently used, it would be quite a few years before men stopped buying jewelry for her.

her jet-black hair and dark eyes and exquisite arrangement of features

However, as there is no end to the beauty that some can create, so there also is no end to the horrors that others

There. I'd actually said it. I had told her she was beautiful, even though she might need a translator to have my meaning properly conveyed.