Quotes About Beauty

La atención es la caricia más hermosa.

Una de las cosas más agradables de la vida: ver cómo se filtra el sol entre las hojas

The key point to keep in mind, however, is that symmetry is one of the most important tools in deciphering nature's design.

Because of the "divine" properties attributed to the Golden Ratio, mathematician Clifford A. Pickover suggested that we should refer to that point as "the Eye of God.

While composite faces tend, by construction, to also be more symmetric, Langlois found that even after the effects of symmetry have been controlled, averageness was still judged to be attractive. These findings argue for a certain level of prototyping in the mind, since averageness might well be coupled with a prototypical template.

He smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, "Life is so beautiful." ... Yes, he thought, if I can die saying, "Life is so beautiful," then nothing else is important.

Time erodes gratitude more quickly than it does beauty!

The secret is not to chase the butterflies.... It's to tend the garden so that they come to you and if they don't come at least you have a garden.

Life is a shitstorm, in which art is our only umbrella." (spoken by character in a novel by Mario Vargas Llosa)

It's hard to have a bad hair day when you're famous.

Blondes are the girlfriend, brunete is the femme fatale, but the heroine, she's the redheaded girl.

No redheads, though, are plain.

The Goddess is the unspeakable wisdom that grows into the very cells of the body. She lives with this sacramental truth at her center: the beauty and the horror of the whole of life are blazing in Her love. She is dancing in the flames.

She dreams she is in a glass coffin. From her prison, details have beauty. In her aloneness, she imagines emotions. Her husband is the perfect bridegroom, the trickster, the small boy looking for mother. She is goddess and mirror, siren and friend, femme fatale and sacrificing wife. He is attracted to her girlhood purity, her desire to sacrifice, to serve. At first he may be flattered: she sees him as a god.

He smiled the kind of smile that is the reason for wars and poetry.

Inside plum trees stood in a row, flowers lifted their pale throats to the moon and stars, a magnolia held its tight-closed buds like white candles in its green hands.

I lost track of where I ended and the city began, and after a few blocks, I'd have stretched to include the flower stand, the guy selling "designer" handbags on the corner, the skyscrapers' shining geometry, the scent of roasting nuts, the café with its bowl of green apples in the window, and the two gorgeous shopgirls on break, flamingolike and sucking on cigarettes outside their fancy boutique, eyes closed, rapturous, as though to smoke were very heaven.

Leaning on a cane, with a book tucked under her free arm, she navigated carefully across the grass, her eyes on the ground, and then just as she got to where we sat, she raised her head - her white hairs starry as dandelion fluff in the morning sun - and smiled at me. "Courage, dear heart," she said in a ringing, surprisingly young voice, then dropped her eyes and walked on.

I won't gush about his appearance, except to say that he was beautiful in the way certain handcrafted wooden objects are beautiful—so seamless, smooth, curved, lustrous, so fully realized and self-contained that it only strikes you seconds later and with the force of a lightning bolt: "Oh my God, that's a chair!" At which point, you sit down and want to stay forever.

I want my body to look good to me first and to the rest of the world second. I want to be someone whom I'd aspire to be if I were another woman or whom I would desire if I were a man. But I also want to reach some level of acceptance of the body I have, regardless of my weight.

She told me her father taught her to live life way beyond the cusp of it, way out in the outer reaches where most people never had the guts to go, where you got hurt. Where there was unimaginable beauty and pain ... They were always reminding themselves to stop measuring life in coffee spoons, mornings and afternoons, to keep swimming way, way down to the bottom of the ocean to find where the mermaids sang, each to each. Where there was danger and beauty and light. Only the now.

When I was in my early 20s, I had my hair permed. Bad idea! It turned into total frizz. My advice to women is, if you have nice hair already, don't get a perm, leave your hair alone!

You know how you wake up in the morning and sometimes you look gorgeous and other times you look like you got hit by a mack truck? I realized that my mack truck is food. If I have no sugar, yeast or wine, I have no undereye bags and my skin is perfect.

When You Are Old' by W. B. Yeats, which appeared in 1892.