Quotes About Beauty

Eve Dinwoody would never be called pretty, but there was something alluring about her nonetheless. She had the sort of plainness that surpassed mere symmetry of feature, transcended simple beauty, and became quietly compelling. And when she smiled at him like that? With joy and happiness and a sort of peace? She was radiant.

A beautiful garden and a beautiful woman have much in common. They both bring peace and tranquillity to the man who is fortunate enough to possess them. Rachel was silent. To be possessed by Jeronimo was a dream she could never aspire to, but she would remember his words for ever.

Shakespeare had all these sonnets where what he said came down to this: Youth is fleeting and you'd better get married and have children and make a copy of the beauty you own because the world owns it too.

I know that you're a virgin and as bodiless as any paralytic. I know I'm old and not as handsome as I once was. But I know you love me as I love you.' And he kissed the angel.

That is the beauty of the solid Marxist education you did not have the privilege of receiving. Believe me, you can find labor issues in any topic if you look hard enough.

perhaps when you live your entire life among such scenes, they do not register as beauty but as the world itself—

I felt sure…that these creatures were never threatened by the grimness of history, either.

when the sun rose at the quarry it turned the world lavender and gold. After

what feels like such a painful loss now will become something beautiful later on. You cannot escape your destiny. You can certainly try. People do so every day. They hold on tight, and the river just dries up.

Yes, she had needed that. She had needed it all her life, without knowing that was what she needed. The joy of creation, of play, had been the empty place unfilled by family and social duties. She would have loved her children better, she thought now, if she had realized how much she herself needed to play, to follow her own childish desire to handle beautiful things and make more beauty.

Beautiful Belinta, Belle of the Hub Worlds." Nobody but the residents would call this sector the Hub Worlds, unless they thought the rest of the wheel had fallen off.

Could anything so handsome, so decorative, so…so enthusiastic…possibly be useful?

You women are all the same. You worry about the wrinkles and the half stone and your boobs dropping, but you don't worry about the sparkle, and that's the best bit. You shouldn't let that go.

Don't." His voice was harsh. "Don't do that." She exhaled. "You're lovely. Lovelier than before.

The room didn't look haunted or eerie now;it was only melancholy in it's faded grandeur.

moon dipped low over the dark outlines of the mountains, and the sable sky blazed with stars. There

If debates about beauty in nineteenth-century France were fierce, that was because beauty was seen to matter. This was a world of political revolutions, of social reformism, of belief in progress and human perfectibility. Why was it that beauty mattered so much in such a world?.

I have sometimes been sad that Tennessee Williams wrote that line for Blanche DuBois, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. Many of us have been saved many times by the kindness of strangers, but after a while it sounds trite, like a bumper sticker. And that's what makes me sad, that a beautiful and true line comes to be used so often that it takes on the superficial sound of a bumper sticker.

She belongs to the winter that is past, to the darkness that is over, and has no part or lot in the life I shall lead for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for joy that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there is in my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart.

Here was the world wide-awake and yet only for me, all the fresh pure air only for me, all the fragrance breathed only by me, not a living soul hearing the nightingale but me, the sun in a few moments coming up to warm only me.

so I took it out with me into the garden, because the dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree.

And when I'm with you, she said, I feel as if I were stuffed with—oh, with stars.

It is beautiful, beautiful to give; one of the very most beautiful things in life.

But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields.