Quotes About Beauty

Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.

Art is indeed not the bread but the wine of life.

Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?

Elle flotte, elle hésite; en un mot, elle est femme." "(She floats, she hesitates; in a word, she's a woman.)

Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit. La lumière du jour, les ombres de la nuit, Tout retrace à mes yeux les charmes que j'évite. Tout vous livre à l'envi le rebelle Hippolyte.

J'aime en lui sa beauté, sa grâce tant vantée, Présents dont la nature a voulu l'honorer, Qu'il méprise lui-même, et qu'il semble ignorer.

Twas easier to disarm the god of strength Than this Hippolytus, for Hercules Yielded so often to the eyes of beauty, As to make triumph cheap. ? Jean Racine, Phèdre

Croatia is an amazing place.

His nudes and his roses declared to men of this century, already deep in their task of destruction, the stability of the eternal balance of nature.

Sometimes something awful could break your heart with beauty.

I hated the mountains and the hills, the rivers and the rain. I hated the sunsets of whatever colour, I hated its beauty and its magic and the secret I would never know. I hated its indifference and the cruelty which was part of its loveliness. Above all I hated her. For she belonged to the magic and the loveliness. She had left me thirsty and all my life would be thirst and longing for what I had lost before I found it.

Have all beautiful things sad destinies?

Beauty in art is often nothing but ugliness subdued.

He was trying to decide if she was pretty. If you had to think about it, he guessed the answer was no.

O can't you see it, O can't you see it,Her skin is like dusk on the eastern horizon… When the sun goes down.

No eyes that have seen beauty ever lose their sight.

Happy, Muriel? No, not happy. Your aim is wrong. There is no such thing as happiness. Life bends joy and pain, beauty and ugliness, in such a way that no one may isolate them. No one should want to. Perfect joy, or perfect pain, with no contrasting element to define them, would mean a monotony of consciousness, would mean death.

If you have heard a Jewish cantor sing, if he has touched you and made your own sorrow seem trivial when compared with his, you will know my feeling when I follow the curves of her profile, like mobile rivers, to their common delta.

Whats beauty anyway but ugliness if it hurts you?

Storm Ending Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads, Great, hollow, bell-like flowers, Rumbling in the wind, Stretching clappers to strike our ears . . . Full-lipped flowers Bitten by the sun Bleeding rain Dripping rain like golden honey— And the sweet earth flying from the thunder.

Night winds in Georgia are vagrant poets, whispering.

There is no such thing as happiness. Life bends joy and pain, beauty and ugliness, in such a way that no one may isolate them.

Men had always wanted her, this Karintha, even as a child, Karintha carrying beauty, perfect as dusk when the sun goes down.

To love someone is to show to them their beauty, their worth and their importance.