Quotes About Beauty

The Avenue, so called by the Newbridge people, was a stretch of road four or five hundred yards long, completely arched over with huge, wide-spreading apple-trees, planted years ago by an eccentric old farmer. Overhead was one long canopy of snowy fragrant bloom. Below the boughs the air was full of a purple twilight and far ahead a glimpse of painted sunset sky shone like a great rose window at the end of a cathedral aisle.

Isn't it splendid there are so many things to like in this world?

Now you see why I can't be perfectly happy. No one could, who has red hair.

I'd like to add some beauty to life," said Anne dreamily. "I don't exactly want to make people KNOW more... though I know that IS the noblest ambition... but I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me... to have some little joy or happy thought would never have existed if I hadn't been born.

That boy ought to sleep with a rubber band around his head to train his ears not to stick out. I had a beau once who did that and it improved him immensely.

Surely the flowers of a hundred springs are simply the souls of beautiful things!

It seemed like a garden where no frost could wither or rough wind blow--a garden remembering a hundred vanished summers.

raised herself on one round elbow and looked out on a tiny river like a gleaming blue snake winding itself around a purple hill. Right below the house was a field white as snow with daisies, and the shadow of the huge maple tree that bent over the little house fell lacily across it. Far beyond it were the white crests of Four Winds Harbour and a long range of sun-washed dunes and red cliffs.

Mrs Allan says that whenever we think of anything that is a trial to use we should also think of something nice that we can set over against it. If you are slightly too plump, you've got the dearest dimples; and if I have a freckled nose the shape of it is all right.

Marilla, look at that big star over Mr. Harrison's maple grove, with all that hold hush of silvery sky about it. I gives me a feeling that is like a prayer. After all, when one can see stars and skies like that, little disappointments and accidents can't matter so much, can they?

Night is beautiful when you are happy—comforting when you are in grief—terrible when you are lonely and unhappy.

You never knew how beautiful a tree really was until you saw it leafless against a pearl-grey winter sky.

It is a pity to gather wood-flowers. They lose half their witchery away from the green and the flicker. The way to enjoy wood-flowers is to track them down to their remote haunts—gloat over them—and then leave them with backward glances, taking with us only the beguiling memory of their grace and fragrance.

Oh, aren't you glad it is spring? The beauty of winter is that it makes you appreciate spring.

Listen to the trees talking in their sleep," she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. "What nice dreams they must have!

One forgets all through the year how lovely spring really is and so it comes as a surprise every time.

And you know one can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.

Good-bye, and may you always see a happy face in your looking-glass!

It's nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one's heart, like treasures.

Folks say I'm good, he remarked whimsically upon one occasion, but I sometimes wish the Lord had made me only half as good and put the rest of it into looks. But there, I reckon He knew what He was about, as a good Captain should. Some of us have to be homely, or the purty ones—like Mistress Blythe here—wouldn't show up so well.

Twas there we found our mayflowers, after faithful seeking. Mayflowers, you must know, never flaunt themselves; they must be sought as becomes them, and then they will yield up their treasures to the seeker—clusters of star-white and dawn-pink that have in them the very soul of all the springs that ever were, re-incarnated in something it seems gross to call perfume, so exquisite and spiritual is it.

But they had found the Tansy Patch a charming place and were glad to go again. For the rest of the vacation there was hardly a day when they did not go up to it-- preferably in the long, smoky, delicious August evenings when the white moths sailed over the tansy plantation and the golden twilight faded into dusk and purple over the green slopes beyond and fireflies lighted their goblin torches by the pond.

Death isn't terrible. The universe is full of love - and spring comes everywhere - and in death you open and shut a door. There are beautiful things on the other side of that door.

While the others chatted over their parcels Jean wrote her letter, and Jean could write delightful letters. She had a decided talent in that respect, and her correspondents all declared her letters to be things of beauty and joy forever.