Quotes About Beauty

Lenz sat in the Stutz and we drove slowly off. I held my handkerchief to my nose and looked out over the evening fields and into the sinking sun. There was an immense, unshakeable peace in it, and one felt how utterly indifferent nature was to anything that this evil-tempered ant-heap called humanity might choose to do in the world.

I wear a pony coat with skin like watered silk and muff of lamb. My fingers lie in depths of warmth. I have a jacket of silver sequins and heavy bracelets of rich corals. I wear about my neck a triple thread-like chain of lapis lazulis and pearls. On my face is softness and content like a veil of golden moonlight. And I have never in all my lives been so lonely.

An artist, he paints with lakes and wooded slopes, with lawns and banks and forest-covered hills. — Daniel Burnham talking about Frederick Law Olmstead

Never was there such a contrast of natural splendor and human vileness.

The fair awakened America to beauty and as such was a necessary passage that laid the foundation for men like Frank Lloyd Wright and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.

He knew that his day was coming to an end. On July 4, 1909, as he stood with friends on the roof of the Reliance Building, looking out over the city he adored, he said, You'll see it lovely. I never will. But it WILL be lovely.

My darling atheist," she recalled telling him, "why do you help me decorate a Christmas tree to celebrate the birth of Christ?" He laughed. "This isn't for Christians or for Christ, liebes Kind," he said, "only for pagans like you and me. Anyway, it is very beautiful.

His overall appearance was striking, that of a damaged Ray Milland—a "cruel, broken beauty," as Martha put

Ned watched her. She was young and pretty—a "handsome blonde," as he later described her.

gin daisy, which

You'll see it lovely. I never will. But it will be lovely.

When the long shadows have all merged into one and the stars begin to gleam out over the lake and the domes of the palaces of the White City.

seemed like jewels on a skull.

the fair ' led our people out of the wilderness of the commonplace to new ideas of architectural beauty and nobility.

look as if they had been plucked from the Palace of Versailles or a Jacobean mansion—that you were aboard a ship being propelled far into the bluest reaches of the ocean.

It was magnificent and terrible: the spasmodic drone of enemy aircraft overhead; the thunder of gunfire, sometimes close sometimes in the distance; the illumination, like that of electric trains in peace-time, as the guns fired; and the myriad stars, real and artificial, in the firmament. Never was there such a contrast of natural splendor and human vileness.

In his last moments, she said, he had run his fingers over his bedding as if playing the piano. "Do you hear that?" he whispered. "Isn't it wonderful? That's what I call music.

Oh, Moon, lovely Moon, with thy beautiful face Careering throughout the boundaries of space Whenever I see thee, I think in my mind Shall I ever, oh ever, behold thy behind.

What was a pretty, clever girl anyway? She gets called a "muse," but she was kindling.

Feeling downright giddy, which must be the lack of blood, Ethan flung his arm over his face and winced. Doubled over. What? What is it! Are you bleeding again? Alexis reached for him. He dropped his arm and smiled. No. It's just that I was momentarily blinded by your beauty. Her jaw dropped and she slapped his arm. Idiot. But as he laughed, he saw her struggle not to grin.

Harley studied his erection, lightly running her fingers over the smooth skin. His cock jumped at her touch. It was a pretty penis, she had to say. Good length, pleasing circumference. Not too big, not too small... the Goldilocks of cocks. Just right.

I've always felt there are two things a woman should never do after the age of thirty-five: stand in natural light and have a baby...

the words of young Ted Kennedy, Jr., who lost his leg to cancer. People are taught we should look perfect, he said. I wondered who would ever go out with a kid with one leg.

In the head of the adoring male is the illusion that sublime beauty is all head and wings, with no bottom to betray it. In one of Swift's poems a young man explains the grotesque contradiction that is tearing him apart: Nor wonder how I lost my Wits; Oh! Caelia, Caelia, Caelia, shits! In other words, in Swift's mind there was an absolute contradiction between the state of being in love and an awareness of the excremental function of the beloved.