Quotes About Beauty

Yo no soy para nada bonita, pero cuando sea grande quiero ser el tipo de persona que haga que la gente diga: "Cuando la conoces no la puedes olvidar".

The beautiful have so much easier a time of it than the ugly, don't you think? They get smiled at the whole time. Strangers offer them things. People notice the beautiful; the beautiful are constantly acknowledged.

Nightmares do not interest her. She seeks only beauty, though sadness charms her, for often the deepest beauty can be found residing in sadness.

And so it seemed to her that he had always been a part of the landscape of her life, this great white bear. She brought him rosehips to sweeten his days, tried to explain how, once they had been flowers, but now were seeds. He had never seen a rose. He told her stories, coloured with every shade of white, and spoke of a sky that danced with lights. She felt that he understood how the world began, how it might end. And, even before they met, he walked in her dreams.

And it seemed to him that she has always been a part of the landscape of his dreams, though for many years he could not understand her shape, until the day they met. So he told her the stories of colours and spoke with the gentle wings of moths, and walked through the world with her by his side. He loved this red colour of rosehips, like blood, but sweeter. She loved the light of wild in his eyes, the scent of frost in his fur and the movement of wings.

Can they hear the stars, here where they lie in the hollow?

After a while, maybe hours, perhaps a few days, she fond herself talking to the hare. At first just comments on how bright the day was, the beauty of cherry blossom, the touch of the wind.

She had not forgotten the time she was lost - how even while lost she refused to feel the fear, but instead saw only the green beauty of the wildwood, breathing deep the scent of trees, earth, lichen, moss.

Did she know, this woman who found rest on the peace of wild things, how the swan, who offered her body as soft pillow, had once been a maiden, caught in a rainstorm, crouched by the water in shelter of bushes, mistaken by her lover out hunting in twilight, who, seeing only her white petticoat thought her a swan and shot? Did she understand how, rather than falling, her wild soul had risen into evening light and flight in the form of a wild swan?

I love her bare legs from a distance. When she's standing by a pool. When she's facing the water, thinking. Her legs are white as watermelon rind, veined blue from cold. There's that 'H' shape behind her knees. The H trembles softly with the swimming-water cold.

If you're looking pretty and your hair's all shiny, and there's a glint in your eye, and you say sorry like you mean it, and then kiss me on the mouth and let your hand kind of slip under my shirt so it's on my back, well, I'd sure forgive and forget.

All we need to know is that beauty is truth, said Keats, and I'm sorry to sound callous, but what he actually needed to know was the cure for his general malaise and for the illness that eventually killed him, aged twenty-five. *

Queen Mary was very beautiful, but she was very unfortunate and unhappy.

Beauty is skin deep, unless you have really bad tattoos.

A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude and integrity can do a great deal to make a woman beautiful.

I am a great lover of art, in many forms: paintings, objets, textiles. I don't have the talent for painting, but I have a very good sense of colour, a love of visual beauty.

Character contributes to beauty. It fortifies a woman as her youth fades. A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude, and integrity can do a great deal to make a woman beautiful.

It was a gorgeous end-of-summer-just-starting-to-befall day. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was the color of cornflowers.

a gorgeous end-of-summer-just-starting-to-be-fall day. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was the color of cornflowers

was low in the sky, and the woods seemed to be sprouting strange

Beauty reflected in a pool may be a little blurred, but it can be as beautiful in its own way as the original.

Being beautiful, was that for men?' 'Yes. Some women say that it is for ourselves. What on earth can we do with it? I could have loved myself whether I was hunchbacked or lame, but to be loved by others, you had to be beautiful.

Thus a day that had seen so many tears ended in the midst of a rainbow.

Look how beautifully black we are. And as we dance, I am not Melody who is sixteen, I am not my parents' once illegitimate daughter—I am a narrative, someone's almost forgotten story. Remembered.