Quotes About Beauty

Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned By those who are not entirely beautiful.

If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror, No vanity's displayed: I'm looking for the face I had Before the world was made.

Love comes in at the eye.

Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.

That beautiful mild woman for whose sake There's many a one shall find out all heartache On finding that her voice is sweet and low Replied, 'To be born a woman is to know- Although they do not talk of it at school - That we must labor to be beautiful.

THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.

I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I believe when I am in the mood that all nature is full of people whom we cannot see, and that some of these are ugly or grotesque, and some wicked or foolish, but very many beautiful beyond any one we have ever seen, and that these are not far away....the simple of all times and the wise men of ancient times have seen them and even spoken to them.

All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.

Is it not certain that the Creator yawns in earthquake and thunder and other popular displays, but toils in rounding the delicate spiral of a shell? -Yeats, The Trembling of the Veil

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate, I find under the boughs of love and hate, In all poor foolish things that live a day, Eternal beauty wandering on her way.

When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossoms in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. . . .

I heard an old religious man But yesternight declare That he had found a text to prove That only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.

Labor is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.

The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.

But Love has pitched his mansion in The place of excrement; For nothing can be sole or whole That has not been rent.

One had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form Where the mountain hare has lain. - Memory

How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

Certainly many if not most of Sufi love poems can be read as if they were addressed to a woman. In fact, without doubt a certain number of them were inspired by a woman's beautiful features, but this did not prevent the poet from viewing her loveliness as the mirror of God's Beauty. (p. 287)

Old age isa flight of smallcheeping birdsskimmingbare treesabove a snow glaze.

Mothlike in mists, scintillant in the minutebrilliance of cloudless days, with broad bellying sailsthey glide to the wind tossing green waterfrom their sharp prows while over them the crew crawls.

I have discovered that most ofthe beauties of travel are due tothe strange hours we keep to see them.

From the petal's edge a line startsthat being of steelinfinitely fine, infinitelyrigid penetratesthe Milky Waywithout contact—