Quotes About Beauty

Oh, isn't it good to be alive--like this? Wouldn't it be dreadful if one had never lived?

Oh, daddy, by what witchcraft have you coaxed that sulky rose-bush into bloom?' 'No witchcraft at all - it just bloomed because you were coming home, baby,' said her father.

Outside in the garden, which was full of mellow sunset light streaming through the dark old firs to the west of it, stood Anne and Diana, gazing bashfully at each other over a clump of gorgeous tiger lilies.

How quiet the woods are today... not a murmur except that soft wind putting in the treetops! It sounds like surf on a faraway shore. How dear the woods are! You beautiful trees! I love every one of you as a friend!

she drank in the beauty of the summer dusk, sweet-scented with flower breaths from the garden below and sibilant and rustling from the stir of poplars. The eastern sky above the firs was flushed faintly pink from the reflection of the west, and Anne was wondering dreamily if the spirit of color looked like that

Wouldn't it be lovely, Miss Shirley, if some one could just wave a wand and make everybody beautiful? she said wistfully. Just fancy my feelings, Miss Shirley, if I suddenly fould myself beautiful! But then....with a sigh...if we were all beauties who would do the work? Anne of Windy Poplars

It's dusk, dearest. (In passing, isn't 'dusk' a lovely word? I like it better than twilight. It sounds so velvety and shadowy and—and—dusky.) In daylight I belong to the world; in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk I'm free from both and belong only to myself—and you. — L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Windy Poplars (Oxford City Press, 2012)(via luthienne)

I listen to the sound the sea makes. I like it now though it always makes me feel sorrowful, but it's a kind of a nice sorrow.

If one could only feel always like this, Pat had said once to Judy. All the little worries swallowed up...all the petty spites and fears and disappointments forgotten...just love and peace and beauty. Oh, oh, but what wud there be lift for heaven, girl dear? asked Judy.

Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty, Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty. -WHITTIER

Oh, Marilla, she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs 'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?

Life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty.

Prose, rightly written and read, is sometimes as beautiful as poetry.

But, Felix, you may be sure that God is infinitely more beautiful and loving and tender and kind than anything we can imagine of Him. Never believe anything else, my boy.

The sun was setting over Rainbow Valley. The pond was wearing a wonderful tissue of purple and gold and green and crimson. A faint blue haze rested on the eastern hill, over which a great, pale, round moon was just floating up like a silver bubble. They

That water looks as if it was smiling at me

it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don't you think?

April came tiptoeing in beautifully that year with sunshine and soft winds for a few days; and then a driving northeast snowstorm dropped a white blanket over the world

The world looks like something God had just imagined for His own pleasure, doesn't it? Those trees look as if I could blow them away with a breath — pouf! I'm so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren't you?

I'm so glad my window looks east into the sunrising,' said Anne, going over to Diana. 'It's so splendid to see the morning coming up over those long hills and glowing through those sharp fir tops. It's new every morning, and I feel as if I washed my very soul in that bath of earliest sunshine.

Anne, on her way to Orchard Slope, met Diana, bound for Green Gables, just where the mossy old log bridge spanned the brook below the Haunted Wood, and they sat down by the margin of the Dryad's Bubble, where tiny ferns were unrolling like curly-headed green pixy folk wakening up from a nap.

How beautiful it was, lying embowered in the twilight of the old trees; the tips of the loftiest spruces came out in purple silhouettes against the north-weatersn sky of rose and amber; down behind it the Blair Water dreamed in silver; the Wind Woman had folded her misty bat-wings in a valley of sunset and stillness that lay over the world like a blessing. Emily felt sure that everything would be all right.

Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.

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 that would never have existed if I hadn't been born.