Quotes About Beauty

I nearly drownded on the Big River back home, but I didn't. Instead, I come to love the river, though the river never loved me. That's how it was with this horse. Ever so splendid and mighty, but indifferent as running water.

Mr. Sinclair once asked the class to make a list of the ten most beautiful words in the English language, and the only word that really seemed beautiful to me was tenderness.

Krista Morales had a heart-shaped face, golden skin, and a smile that dimpled her right cheek. Her eyes were deep chocolate, and her hair glistened with the deep black sheen of a crow's wing in the sun. I smiled at the picture, then handed it back. "Pretty.

Pike was focused on Dru. She had thrown on shorts and a faded T-shirt in her rush to the shop, and now her hair was mussed and her feet were smudged with green. Pike thought the smart eyes seemed worried this morning, but he couldn't stop looking at her—as if she were a book he wanted to read. "You

I looked at her, and thought that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. "Can I shoot him later?" She smiled again, and this time patted my hand. "We'll see." Something to live for.

Time is wicked. It comes and goes like a thief in the night, stealing our youth, our beauty, and our bodies.

It also demonstrated that far from being an impediment, knowledge is an asset to feminine charm.

Why do we marry, why take friends and lovers? Why give ourselves to music, painting, chemistry or cooking? Out of simple delight in the resident goodness of creation, of course; but out of more than that, too. Half earth's gorgeousness lies hidden in the glimpsed city it longs to become.

Only miracle is plain; it is in the ordinary that groans with the weight of glory.

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

Come over the hills and far with me And be my love in the rain.

My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

You, of course, are a rose-- But were always a rose.

Earth's the right place for love. I don't know where it's likely to go better.

Lodged The rain to the wind said, 'You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed. That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged -- though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.

The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee, Expend their bloom in vain. Come over the hills and far with me, And be my love in the rain.

El bosque es hermoso, oscuro y profundo. Pero tengo promesas que cumplir, y millas que recorrer antes de dormir. Y millas que recorrer antes de dormir.

I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.

Part of a moon was falling down the west, Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills. Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand Among the harp-like morning-glory strings, Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves, As if she played unheard the tenderness That wrought on him beside her in the night.

A Late Walk - A Tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower to carry again to you.

But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the winter breeze A hundred miles away.

My sorrow, when she's here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be.

Who would you be, I wonder, by those marks If I had moths to friend as I have flowers?

Nothing gold can stay.