Quotes About Beauty

Ah,steeds,steeds,what is steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you strain your bronze chests and, hooves barely touching the ground, turn into straight lines cleaving the air, and all inspired by God it rushes on!

You have your brush, you have your colors, you paint paradise, then in you go.

I said to the almond tree, 'Sister, speak to me of God.' And the almond tree blossomed.

Venise à la qualité de disparaître en un instant,de ne pas courir derrière le train avec des clins d'œil à gauche et à droite comme le font d'autres villes, mais de sombrer aussitôt, comme si elle n'existait pas, comme si elle n'avait jamais existé.

They open their wings, flash patterns and color, fly from flower toflower. I, with the dark brittles and many feet of the former form, inchalong the ground. Sometimes all I want is two armfuls of air, a fistful of sky.

They open their wings, flash patterns and colors, fly from flower to flower. I, with the dark bristles and many feet of the former form, inch along the ground. Sometimes all I want is two armfuls of air, a fistful of sky.

That which is striking and beautiful is not always good, but that which is good is always beautiful.

The ideal has many names, and beauty is but one of them.

Beauty without grace is a hook without a bait.

To love was to regain the capacity to remember a world without names, to recall by virtue of the whorl above the beloved's knucklebones and to blue of the veins beneath the skin the unbearable fragility of mornings in this counrty, to find October odors trapped in the skinfolds between her toes along with the scent of talcum powder and soap and human sweat.

im so ugly but thats ok cuz so are you.

When the world does not hold and bind you, it becomes an abode of joy and beauty. You can be happy in the world only when you are free of it.

My heart is bound by beauty's spell. My love is indestructible. Although I like a candle burn, And almost to a shadow turn, I envy not the heart that's free: Love's soul-encircling chains for me.

Mais il est canon, ce mec! poursuivit la journaliste. Il a de super beaux yeux, une bouche hyper-sensuelle, des fesses bien rondes et bien fermes, un torse large et musclé, des bras puissants... - Il est marié. il a trois filles et il vit au Brésil, l'interrompit le photographe. - Rien qui empêche de regarder le menu! D'ailleurs, ils sont pas mal foutus, les autres...

Clothes are not meant to make people think about what is under the clothes. Clothes are meant to direct attention to what is not under them: merciful hands that serve others in the name of Christ, beautiful feet that carry the gospel where it is needed, and the brightness of a face that has beheld the glory of Jesus.

Life is glorious, but it can be counted on to be cruel.

I live my life in pursuit of truth and beauty. It doesn't pay very well.

Because what if instead of a story told in consecutive order, life is a cacophony of moments we never leave? What if the most traumatic or the most beautiful experiences we have trap us in a kind of feedback loop, where at least some part of our minds remains obsessed, even as our bodies move on?

They are looking for the smooth remains of bottles, shiny coins of broken glass worn smooth by the sea. This is what happens when things break. The pieces separate, scatter. They are battered by the elements, buffed and polished smooth, then deposited on far-off beaches. All your hopes and dreams.

What if instead of a story told in consecutive order, life is a cacophony of moments we never leave. What if the most traumatic or the most beautiful experiences we have trap us in a kind of feedback loop, where at least some part of our minds remain obsessed, even as our bodies move on.

The signs were everywhere, it seemed. What it meant depended on which god you worshipped. The God of Denial, the God of Revenge, the God of Beauty, Prosperity, Youth. All shared the same name—God will lift you up. God will strike you down!—but it wasn't possible that White Supremacist Jesus and Civil Rights Jesus were the same person, that splash a pregnant woman with blood Jesus and turn the other cheek Jesus were even the same species of deity.

Because what if instead of a story told in consecutive order, life is a cacophony of moments we never leave? What if the most traumatic or the most beautiful experiences we have trap us in a kind of feedback loop, where at least some part of our minds remains obsessed, even as our bodies move on? A

aesthetic isn't simply about good design for good design's sake.

The more my mind began to quiet, the more I found myself wanting to be surrounded by natural beauty.