Quotes About Beauty

Her eyes appeared to regard him out of many thousand years: all emotion she might have felt, all words she might have uttered, would have seemed inadequate beside the adequacy of her silence, ineloquent against the eloquence of her beauty

BEAUTY: Bogus? What is bogus? THE VOICE: That, too, you will discover in this land. You will find much that is bogus. Also, you will do much that is bogus.

Her hair, full of a heavenly glamour, was gay against the winter color of the room.

Nothing had ever felt so young as her lips.

Then Nicole. Rosemary saw her suddenly in a new way and found her one of the most beautiful people she had ever known. Her face, the face of a saint, a viking Madonna, shone through the faint motes that snowed across the candlelight, drew down its flush from the wine-colored lanterns in the pine. She was still as still

If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.

Too bad she was dull--dull girls were unbearable--certainly pretty though.

She would be twenty-nine in February. The month assumed an ominous and inescapable significance—making her wonder, through these nebulous half-fevered hours whether after all she had not wasted her faintly tired beauty, whether there was such a thing as use for any quality bounded by a harsh and inevitable mortality. Years

Upon it floated swans like boats and boats like swans, both lost in the nothingness of the heartless beauty.

Eleanor was, say, the last time that evil crept close to Amory under the mask of beauty, the last weird mystery that held him with wild fascination and pounded his soul to flakes.

Within the building the trio broke into Suppe's Light Calvary. Nicole took advantage if this to stand up and the impression of her youth beauty grew on Dick until it welled up inside him in a compact paroxysm of emotion. She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.

Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay.

He felt persistently that the girl was beautiful—then of a sudden he understood: it was her distance, not a rare and precious distance of soul but still distance, if only in terrestrial yards.

She was perhaps the delicious inexpressible, once-in-a-century blend

Por un momento el último rayo de sol cayó con una afectación romántica sobre su cara radiante; su voz me llevaba dejándome sin aliento conforme yo escuchaba...

As he sat on the side of the bed, he felt the room, the house and the night as empty. In the next room Nicole muttered something in her sleep. For him time stood still and then every few years accelerated in a rush, like the quick re-wind of a film, but for Nicole the years slipped away by clock and calendar and birthday, with the added poignance of her perishable beauty.

Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it

There was the union of his soul with Gloria's, whose radiant fire and freshness was the living material of which the dead beauty of books was made.

He felt persistently that the girl was beautiful – then of a sudden he understood: it was her distance, not a rare and precious distance of soul but still distance, if only in terrestrial yards. The autumn air was between them, and the roofs and the blurred voices. Yet for a not altogether explained second, posing perversely in time, his emotion had been nearer to adoration than in the deepest kiss he had ever known.

She is one of those girls who need never make the slightest effort to have men fall in love with them. Two types of men seldom do: dull men are usually afraid of her cleverness and intellectual men are usually afraid of her beauty. All others are hers by natural prerogative.

Oh-oh-oh-oh Other flamingos than me

Anthony for the moment wanted fiercely to paint her, to set her down now, as she was, as with each relentless second she could never be again. 'What were you thinking?' she asked. 'Just that I'm not a realist,' he said, and then: 'No, only the romanticist preserves the things worth preserving.

Her body calculated to a millimeter to suggest a bud yet guarantee a flower.

He stared at her, and the impression of her beauty grew until, uncommitted by a word, by even a formal introduction, he felt himself going out toward her, watching the turn of her lips and the shifting of her cheeks when she smiled.