Quotes About Beauty

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth into bright air,for now the red leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

Querying greys between mouthed houses curl thirstily. Dead stars stink. dawn. Inane, the poetic carcass of a girl

never boast your dead beauties, mine being unto me sweeter (of whose shy delicious glance things which never more shall be, perfect things of faerie, are intense inhabitants; in whose warm superlative body do distinctly live all sweet cities passed away— in her flesh at break of day are the smells of Nineveh, in her eyes when day is gone are the cries of Babylon.)

singing (though love be a day) for which girl art thou flowers bringing?

if you like my poems let them walk in the evening,a little behind you then people will say "Along this road i saw a princess pass on her way to meet her lover (it was toward nightfall) with tall and ignorant servants. — E.E. Cummings, "if you like my poems let them," Etcetera: The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings . Liveright February 5, 2001) Originally published 1983.

the moon is like a floating silver hell a song of adolescent ivory.

Buffalo Bills defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what I want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death

lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry -the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis

whiter than lilies which are born and cease for being whiter than this world)

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.

haste ere some thrush with silver several tears complete the perfumed paraphrase of death)

in spite of everything which breathes and moves, since Doom (with white longest hands neatening each crease) will smooth entirely our minds --before leaving my room I turn, and(stooping through the morning)kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.

ve aÄŸaçlar direnir: aÄŸaçlar direnir. AÄŸaçlar, birden bekleye durur ay?n yüzüne kar??.

death,as men call him,ends what they call men —but beauty is more now than dying's when

Days of Innocence 1 who are you,little i (five or six years old) peering from some high window;at the gold of november sunset (and feeling:that if day has to become night this is a beautiful way)

Father looked at her and she was beautiful in the way she had been as a girl. He did not realize the pleasure he felt in having made her cry.

The poem is a cry of the unborn heart. Yes, because the poem perfectly embodies the world, there is no world without poem.

When the sun came through the [stained-glass] windows, I felt that I was standing inside of God's kaleidoscope.

I never really look past my eyes. That way I always feel pretty. Windows of the soul, you know.

I think you're beautiful, the only beautiful person I've ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.

Italy is a country every man should love once.

People may refer the sea as both feminine and masculine but I like to refer it as feminine because the moon effects the sea in the same way it does a women

All the things that truly matter, beauty, love, creativity, joy and inner peace arise from beyond the mind.

All things that truly matter - beauty , love , creativity ,joy , inner-peace - arise from beyond the mind .