Quotes About Beauty

From an aunt, long ago: "Death has come for me many times but finds me always in my lovely garden and leaves me there, I think, as an excuse to return."

What is beautiful in a film, what I look for, in essence, is a journey toward the unknown. The audience has to sense that I'm heading toward the unknown, that I don't know in advance what will happen.

In the nude, all that is not beautiful is obscene.

Cinema, like music, should wash away the dust of everyday life.

A whole made of good images can be detestable.

A l'assurance des acteurs oppose le charme des modèles qui ne savent pas ce qu'ils sont.

It is in its pure form that an art hits hard.

'Twas here we loved in sunnier days and greener; And now, in this disconsolate decay, I come to see her where I most have seen her, And touch the happier day.

For beauty being the best of all we know Sums up the unsearchable and secret aims Of nature.

And dead leaves wrap the fruits that summer planted: And birds that love the South have taken wing. The wanderer, loitering o'er the scene enchanted, Weeps, and despairs of spring.

I love all beauteous things,I seek and adore them;God hath no better praise,And man in his hasty daysIs honored for them.

When men were all asleep, the snow came flying,In large white flakes falling on the city brown,Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.

Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru' all creation.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air: I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare: Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp'd grandest Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest. (A Passer-by)

When you think intensely and beautifully, something happens. That something is called poetry. If you think that way and speak at the same time, poetry gets in your mouth. If people hear you, it gets in their ears. If you think that way and write at the same time, then poetry gets written. But poetry exists in any case. The question is only: are you going to take part, and if so, how?

The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.

If you get simple beauty and nought else, You get about the best thing God invents.

It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truths, to mouths like mine at least.

O Lyric Love, half angel and half bird,And all a wonder and a wild desire.

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,Lest you should think he never could recaptureThe first fine careless rapture!

To me at least was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

Dear dead women, with such hair, too—what's become of all the goldUsed to hang and brush their bosoms? I feel chilly and grown old.

We're made so that we loveFirst when we see them painted, things we have passedPerhaps a hundred times nor cared to see;And so they are better, painted—better to us,Which is the same thing. Art was given for that.