Quotes About Beauty

We were celebrating transcendental consciousness, the beauty of the universe, the beauty of being.

Let the straight flower bespeak its purpose in straightness - to seek the light. Let the crooked flower bespeak its purpose in crookedness - to seek the light. Let the crookedness and straightness bespeak the light.

We're all golden sunflowers inside.

No monster vibration, no snake universe hallucinations. Many tiny jeweled violet flowers along the path of a living brook that looked like Blake's illustration for a canal in grassy Eden: huge Pacific watery shore, Orlovsky dancing naked like Shiva long-haired before giant green waves, titanic cliffs that Wordsworth mentioned in his own Sublime, great yellow sun veiled with mist hanging over the planet's oceanic horizon. No harm.

We're all golden sunflowers inside.

There is probably nothing wrong with art for art's sake if we take the phrase seriously, and not take it to mean the kind of poetry written in England forty years ago.

Trouble finds us, Sean. That doesn't mean we shouldn't go away. Hawaii, maybe. What's the homicide rate in Hawaii? Probably low. It's too pretty a place for people to be violent.

I'd like to make really important movies, like American Beauty. I was really proud to be a part of that movie.

Outside, with Labor Day having come and gone, summer is fighting a dying battle against the fall air. The leaves are hanging perilously on the trees, knowing full well they're going to make the plunge, clinging on as if they stand a chance not to. The garbage smell that has wafted around us for the better part of August is dissipating, ushered out with the humidity, and in its place a briskness is filtering in, like something you'd smell from a bottle of Tide.

I never knew there were this many stars." "I can't see them," he told me. "I just see you." "That's one of your cheesier lines," I told him. "It's the altitude," he told me. "I don't have enough oxygen in my brain." "I see.

british bombshell" -grant

Why don't I know You?" "Does anyone ever really know someone else?" "You think your cute," she told him. "You think your gorgeous. But I'm the one guy here who knows better." "So I'm not gorgeous?" Macey challenged. "Of course you are," He started away, turned back at the last minute. "But I'm the guy who figured out that's not all you are.

I've attended seven schools in ten years," I explain. "So you can rest assured I know you. You're the girl who thinks being cruel is the same thing as being witty. You think being loud is the same thing as being right. And, most of all, you're the girl who is very, very pretty. And also very, very...common. trust me. There's at least one of you in every school." I watch her features shift. "Oh. Wait. Did you think you were unique?

Cammie: I never knew there were this many stars. Zach: I can't see them. I just see you.

So I'm not gorgeous?" Macey challenged. "Of course you are." He started away, turned back at the last minute. "But I'm the guy who figured out that's not all you are.

The sun is at the horizon now, and the sky streaks with reds and golds. The whole world seems to be wearing a halo, and for a second I let myself savor it. I let myself believe. Alexei's arm is warm around my shoulder and a cool breeze blows in off the sea. Between us, we speak seven different languages, but not a one of us says a word. We sit in silence as the sun sets, marking the end of this day. Marking the beginning of everything else.

Logan watched her speak. Her voice was the same, but her mouth was different. Why had Logan never noticed her mouth before? Her bottom lip was fuller, but the top lip was shaped like a little bow, and he couldn't decide which lip he liked more. He knew he was going to have to do a lot more looking in order to choose. And it suddenly felt imperative that Logan choose very, very well.

And all around me, there are people. Beautiful people. Awkward people. People who are so engrossed with the person beside them that I highly doubt they even remember where they are. People who want to be anywhere but here.

The next day is a blur of dress fittings and dance lessons and trips to various salons with Ms. Chancellor. Some of her instruments of torture are hot. Some are cold. Some are hard and some are soft. All are dangerous, I decide. If the army knew about curling irons, basic training might look very, very different.

The beauty of dystopia is that it lets us vicariously experience future worlds - but we still have the power to change our own.

La belleza es un monstruo, una deidad sangrienta a la que hay que aplacar con constantes sacrificios...

Las cosas inútiles, si son bonitas, sirven para algo ¿no? Aunque no sea más que para alegrarse de verlas

y la piel de las ciudades envejece también, como la de sus hijos, pero el tiempo posa sobre sus poros de piedra, de cristal, de cemento, una pátina brillante y bella, dorada, tensa, tan inexorable su poder como el que ahonda los surcos que el mismo tiempo abre sin piedad en las esquinas de nuestros labios, de nuestros ojos, de nuestra frente".

y mi repentina belleza no era sino la huella más profunda de su mirada.