Quotes About Beauty

I want to tell my friends how beautiful / the world is. Not but what they know / it is terrible too--they know as well as I; / but nevertheless, I want to tell my friends. / Because they are. And this is what they are; / and because it is and this is what it is. / You are my friend. The world is beautiful. / Dear friend, you are. I want to tell you so.

Landscape is metaphor / and only metaphor. But, oh, I have loved it so.

A green world, a scene of green, deep / with light blues, the greens made deep / by those blues. One thinks how / in certain pictures, envied landscapes are seen / (through a window, maybe) far behind the serene / sitter's face, the serene pose, as though/in some impossible mirror, face to back, / human serenity gazed at a green world / which gazed at this face.

There is no season such delight can bring As summer, autumn, winter and the spring.

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. Albert

It's certain that fine women eatA crazy salad with their meat.

What shall I do for pretty girlsNow my old bawd is dead?

Irish poets, learn your trade,Sing whatever is well made.

Labor is blossoming or dancing whereThe body is not bruised to pleasure soul,Nor beauty born out of its own despair,Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer,Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Their eyes mid many wrinkles, their eyes,Their ancient, glittering eyes, are gay.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,Enwrought with gold and silver light.

What were all the world's alarmsTo mighty Paris when he foundSleep upon a golden bedThat first dawn in Helen's arms?

I heard the old, old men say,"All that's beautiful drifts awayLike the waters."

To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.

Only God, my dear,Could love you for yourself aloneAnd not your yellow hair.

Somewhere beyond the curtainOf distorting daysLives that lonely thingThat shone before these eyesTargeted, trod like Spring.

Land of Heart's Desire,Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

May she be granted beauty and yet not Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught, Or hers before a looking-glass, for such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness and maybe The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend....

Upon the brimming water among the stonesAre nine-and-fifty swans.

This great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool understands.

For such,Being made beautiful overmuch,Consider beauty a sufficient end,Lose natural kindness and maybeThe heart-revealing intimacyThat chooses right, and never find a friend.

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clasp its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress.

All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,The heavy steps of the plowman, splashing the wintry mold,Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

You shall go with me, newly-married bride,And gaze upon a merrier multitude.White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,Feachra of the hurtling form, and himWho is the ruler of the Western Host,Finvara, and their Land of Heart's Desire.Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.