Quotes About Beauty

He is a portion of the lovelinessWhich once he made more lovely.

When the lamp is shatteredThe light in the dust lies dead—When the cloud is scatteredThe rainbow's glory is shed.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams....

Nor the feathery curtains Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch...

It is our willThat thus enchains us to permitted ill—We might be otherwise—we might be allWe dream of happy, high majestical.Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek,But in our mind?

[T]here is a harmony In autumn, and a luster in its sky...

A sensitive plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light, and closed them beneath the kisses of night.

Obscenity, which is ever blasphemy against the divine beauty in life, is a monster for which the corruption of society forever brings forth new food, which it devours in secret.

I arise from dreams of theeIn the first sweet sleep of night,When the winds are breathing low,And the stars are shining bright.

See! the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea: - What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?

Our sweetest songs are those that tell the saddest thoughts.

For love and beauty and delight, there is no death nor change.

Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.

Oh,lift me as a wave,a leaf,a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life!I bleed!

Poet's food is love and fame.

Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone, And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Poetry] strips the veil of familiarity from the world, and lays bear the naked and sleeping beauty which is the spirit of its forms.

Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Terror!

What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain?

And the sunlight claps the earth, And the moonbeam kiss the sea, What is all these sweet work worth, If thou kiss not me.

Oh, weep for Adonais—he is dead! Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone, where all things wise and fair Descend—oh, dream not that the amorous Deep Will yet restore him to the vital air; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.