Quotes About Beauty

Like a pair of looms, using sunshine and their own silhouettes, two enormous California live oaks wove veils of gold and purple, which they flung across the driveway.

by woods beyond the yard.

no act of creation was finer or more beautiful than the creation of an intelligent mind.

the recognition of Evil, not as it was portrayed by Disney villains, but as it was in fact: ruthless and irrational, selfish above all else, convinced of its righteousness and of the beauty of disorder.

About sixty feet ahead, Chang ran along a surfline of gray shadows, where the waves of light dissolved against the shore of night.

But he that dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose. —ANNE BRONTË, "The Narrow Way

Only the human monster knew beauty and rejected it, knew truth and disdained it, knew peace and did not prefer it, unlike the tiger and the wolf who knew not.

Mother Nature wasn't really motherly. Mom said nature was more like a bipolar aunt who treated you kindly most of the time but, now and then, could be a real witch, conjuring killer storms and vicious animals, like big toothy mountain lions that, if given a

She considers them to constitute a work of art.

hope knowing this doesn't diminish your love of the island.

It is the history of evil people that they first seek to destroy innocence because innocence is beauty, and then seek to destroy what is merely beautiful because it reminds them of the innocence they have forsaken.

we're finally getting a little wisdom when we're able to see that even loss can be beautiful if it makes us love more the things we haven't lost.

This is reality, tofu man, because reality is what we carry in our hearts, and my heart is full of beauty just for you.

Poetry is not efficient. If you want to learn how to cook a lobster, it's probably best not to look to poetry. But if you want to see the word lobster in all its reactant oddity, its pied beauty, as if for the first time, go to poetry. And if you want to know what it's like to be that lobster in the pot, that's in poetry too.

I still love the sound of breaking, the tearing of the page

I've always loved catching snow on my eyelashes.

The sunlight had broken through the trees and landed on her like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Addicted to the small comfort I felt when I centered myself and concentrated on creating something beautiful.

It started to snow—light flakes that drifted down from the heavens like small feathers released from angel pillows.

By the time they arrived, the snow was coming down fast.... It's beautiful, she said, pausing outside the door. She thrust out her hands and let the snow land on her palms. Yes, yes... Reid seemed in a mighty big hurry to get her inside. How long did you say the storm would last? she asked, thinking it would be so beautiful. The snow -- not being trapped with Reid Jamison. Reid hesitated. Longer than either of us is going to like, he muttered, looking miserable. Jenna was afraid of that.

You're beautiful." And I meant it.

a smile would certainly increase his face value.

A wise woman doesn't take anything for granted. She is thankful to be loved and seeks to make herself more lovely.

People should not be allowed to be born that beautiful. They get away with too much. Beauty is truth? That last couplet always bothered me. In art, in an urn, maybe, but in people, no way. In fact, sometimes I think physical beauty may be the biggest scam ever played upon mankind.