Quotes About Beauty

as great poets do when the tyranny of rhyme forces them into the discovery of their finest lines.

There are some faces which take on an unaccustomed beauty and majesty the moment they no longer have a gaze.

Painful recollections are always of the dead. And the dead decompose rapidly, and there remains the beauty of nature, silence, the purity of air.

the more permanent colour of the flowers themselves, with the utmost profundity, evanescence, and mystery—with a quiet suggestion of infinity

For when it is in the hope of making a priceless discovery that we desire to receive certain impressions from nature or from works of art, we have qualms lest our soul imbibe inferior impressions which might lead us to form a false estimate of the value of Beauty.

Comme sur un plant où les fleurs mûrissent à des époques différentes, je les avais vues, en de vieilles dames, sur cette plage de Balbec, ces dures graines, ces mous tubercules, que mes amies seraient un jour. Mais qu'importait ? en ce moment c'était la saison des fleurs.

Matote, gyvenime, mano berniuk, ateina toksai laikas, <...>, kai pavargusios akys nebepakelia kitos šviesos tik t?, kuri? graži naktis, kaip šiandien, sukuria ir skleidžia kartu su tamsa, kai ausys nebegali klausytis kitos muzikos, o tik m?nesienos, grojan?ios tylos fleita.

he asked himself whether this period, upon which he had entered, was to last much longer, whether presently his mind's eye would cease to behold that dear countenance, save as occupying a distant and diminished position, and on the verge of ceasing to shed on him the radiance of its charm.

Lo primero y lo más íntimo que yo sentía,..., que gobernaba todo lo demás, era mi creencia en la riqueza filosófica y la belleza del libro que estaba leyendo y mi deseo de apropiármelas, de cualquier libro que se tratara

As on a plant whose flowers open at different seasons, I had seen, expressed in the form of old ladies, on this Balbec shore, those shrivelled seed-pods, those flabby tubers which my friends would one day be. But what matter? For the moment it was their flowering-time

And thinking again of the sameness of Vinteuil's works, I explained to Albertine that the great men of letters have never created more than a single work, or rather have never done more than refract through various media an identical beauty which they bring into the world.

It has been said that beauty is the promise of happiness. Reversing the idea, the prospect of pleasure can also be the beginning of beauty.

since the beauty of human beings is not like the beauty of things,

Comme le public ne connaît du charme, de la grâce, des formes de la nature que ce qu'il en a puisé dans les poncifs d'un art lentement assimilé, et qu'un artiste original commence par rejeter ces poncifs, M. et Mme Cottard, image en cela du public, ne trouvaient ni dans la sonate de Vinteuil, ni dans les portraits du peintre, ce qui faisait pour eux l'harmonie de la musique et la beauté de la peinture.

Ce tacere minunata, imi spuse el; un romancier pe care il vei citi mai tarziu pretindea ca inimilor ranite, precum este inima mea, li se potrivesc doar umbra si tacerea. Si iata, copilul meu, vine in viata un ceas, de care tu esti inca foarte departe, cand ochii obositi nu mai suporta decat o lumina, cea pe care o noapte frumoasa ca aceasta o pregateste si o picura odata cu intunericul, un ceas cand urechile nu mai pot asculta alta muzica decat cea cantata de clarul de luna pe flautul tacerii.

Of the state of mind which, in that far off year, had been simply an unending torture to me, nothing survived. For there is in this world in which everything wears out, everything perishes, one thing that crumbles into dust, that destroys itself still more completely, leaving behind still fewer traces of itself than Beauty: namely Grief.

Ces fleurs sont d'un rose vraiment céleste, dit Legrandin, je veux dire couleur de ciel rose. Car il y a un rose ciel comme il y a un bleu ciel.

How many times in the course of my life reality had disappointed me because at the moment when I perceived it, my imagination, which was my only means of enjoying beauty, could not be applied to it by virtue of the inevitable law which only allows us to imagine that which is absent.

Let but a single real feature—the little that one distinguishes of a woman seen from afar or from behind—enable us to project the form of beauty before our eyes, we imagine that we have seen her before, our heart beats, we hasten in pursuit, and will always remain half-persuaded that it was she, provided that the woman has vanished: it is only if we manage to overtake her that we realise our mistake.

I raised my eyes to those flavescent, frizzy locks and felt myself caught in their swirl and swept away, with a throbbing heart, amid the lightning and the blasts of a hurricane of beauty.

The reason why life may be judged to be trivial, although at certain moments to us, it seems so beautiful, is that we form our judgement ordinarily, not on the evidence of life itself, but of the mental images which preserve nothing of life and therefore, we judge it disparagingly.

They talk about vandalism, about the destruction of statues, but is not the destruction of so many wonderful young men who were polychrome statues of incomparable beauty also vandalism? Is not a city in which there are no more beautiful men like a city in which all the statuary has been destroyed?

Now are the woods all black, But still the sky is blue.

Il regarda sa fille et la trouva vierge et désirable.