Quotes About Beauty

Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.

Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.

Then I see you, Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur, With a basket of roses on your arm. You are cool, like silver, And you smile. I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.

Earth's noblest thing -- a woman perfected.

The petals numbered but degrade to prose Summer's triumphant poem of the rose.

The pennoned reeds, that, as the west-wind blew, Gleamed and sighed plaintively, as if they knew What music slept enchanted in each stem, Till Pan should choose some happy one of them, And with wise lips enlife it through and through.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold.

Clear nights are sometimes the coldest.

Love seems to beautify and inspire all nature. It raises the earthly caterpillar into the ethereal butterfly, it paints the feathers in spring, it lights the glowworm's lamp, it wakens the song of birds, and inspires the poet's lay. Even inanimate Nature seems to feel the spell, and flowers glow with the richest colours.

Art is unquestionably one of the purest and highest elements in human happiness. It trains the mind through the eye, and the eye through the mind. As the sun colors flowers, so does art color life.

how do we pass from chaos to "cosmos": from disorder to the perfect and just regimen of a magnificently ordained natural dispensation upon which the sun gently shines?

Now, in the tradition of Stoicism, the innermost essence of the world is harmony, order – both true and beautiful – which the Greeks referred to by the term kosmos.

Een zuivere schim in een vervuilde schepping.

There is nothing in the universe about which art cannot be created.

There was panic in my eyes. I looked into my own eyes and back down at my hands. Horrid age spots, two scars. Un-Indian, nervous, lonely hands. I could see children and men and gardens in my hands.

well, I guess it is natural when one is dying to sort of sum up what has mattered, what has been beautiful.

Music, as you know, is an incredibly complex process, including conceiving, writing, studying, organizing, listening. The fabric of music has its roots everywhere. That's why it is so beautiful.

her dangling braids the color of rain.

dreaming your x-ray vision could see the beauty in me.

Lo digo ingenuamente, prefiero el aire libre del desierto, su cielo, su sublime y poética soledad, a estas calles encajonadas, a este hormiguero de gente atareada, a estos horizontes circunscritos que no me permiten ver el firmamento cubierto de estrellas, sin levantar la cabeza, ni gozar del espectáculo imponente de la tempestad cuando serpentean los relámpagos luminosos y ruge el trueno.

All art is but imitation of nature.

For thee the wonder-working earth puts forth sweet flowers.

On a dark theme I trace verses full of light, touching all the muses' charm.

From the heart of this fountain of delights wells up some bitter taste to choke them even amid the flowers.