Quotes About Beauty

How much there is in art that is beautiful, if only one can remember what one has seen, one is never empty or truly lonely, and never alone. -Vincent Van Gogh

Uncle Cor once had asked Vincent if he would feel anything for a woman or a girl who was beautiful, 'but I said I would have more feeling for and would prefer to be involved with one who was ugly or old or impoverished or in some way unhappy, who has acquired understanding and a soul through experience of life and trial and error, or sorrow.' -Vincent Van Gogh

Colour expresses something in itself. -Vincent Van Gogh

How much there is in art that is beautiful, if only one can remember what one has seen, one is never empty or truly lonely, and never alone.

Jack couldn't help but watch Nonie as she left. She looked to be twenty-nine, thirty at the most, stood maybe five foot-four and was slender. She had shoulder-length, curly, walnut-colored hair and the largest most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seem Her nose and ears were small in comparison to her full lips, which he'd give anything to kiss.

Oh, uh-uh," Shaundelle said. "I'm not gonna be no place where no ghost is gonna be knockin' nobody upside the head. I'm outta here. I'm not going to take any chances that some ghost is gonna mess up this pretty face.

She was not a poet. She was a poem.

The fact that lipstick and mascara and eye shadow were called 'Make Up' thrilled me. Everywhere in the world there were made up people and most of them were women.

Kitty stared at the sky smashing against the mountains.

She had to admit he was quite handsome even though he was repulsive.

Beautiful breath beautiful breath beautiful breath. I loved every part of her.

She is color, waiting to be mixed; a painting, ready to be brushed into life. She is a moment, waiting to be fixed forever under a shiny varnish.

But you have to be courageous, my friend, and unafraid of pain. For only through pain will the beauty of the world be revealed.'' He

If the poet says that he can inflame men with love, which is the central aim in all animal species, the painter has the power to do the same, and to an even greater degree, in that he can place in front of the lover the true likeness of that which is beloved, often making him kiss and speak to it. —LEONARDO DA VINCI, Notebooks

It was as if you could see into the sky, through it's layers and into it's core. Layers of stars, translucent blanket upon blanket. The beauty was overwhelming. The wind blew her hair, and she willed herself to stop, to breathe, to feel.

Because it was said that a man had to appreciate beauty in order to know what he is fighting to protect.

the poetry lies in the crude handling of the paint rather than in the subject matter.

Stung, I lifted my eyes to his and saw them as if for the first time. Eyes the color of rain, soft as dew and strong enough to etch a mountainside. Tears shimmered there — tears, ay Mother! Or maybe they were in my own eyes.

Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance - each beautiful, unique and too soon gone.

What is heartbreaking is that there is still beauty in the world.

Each day, the world is made fresh again, holy, and she takes it in, in all its raw intensity, like a young child. She feels something bloom in her chest—joy or grief, eventually they are inseparable. The world is so acutely beautiful, for all its horrors, that she will be sorry to leave it.

But now I know, while beauty lives So long will live my power to grieve.

Un adev?rat artist nu abandoneaz? niciodat? frumuse?ea

O strânse cu atâta drag de parc? ar fi îmbr??i?at toate culorile lumii