Quotes About Beauty

Is it not beautiful?" I said of the world around us. Is it not terrible?

The air itself smelled of peaches, here and all over Unity; when the breeze came up, petals fell like snow. If a person didn't move, if she was completely still, the petals streamed over her, catching in the hem of her clothes, in the strands of her hair, white as snow, quiet as snow, silent and fleeting and drifting down from above to cover her and carry her home.

As for Franny, she wanted what she most often experienced in her dreams. To be among the birds. She preferred them to most human beings, their grace, their distance from the earth, their great beauty. Perhaps that was why they always came to her. In some way, she spoke their language.

Don't think this won't happen to you,' she hissed at all the pretty young girls passing by. 'Youth is fleeting. It's nothing but a dream. I'm where you're going. I'm what you'll be.

You don't need wealth to appreciate something beautiful.

Spring was madness in New England, all the world cone to love at once.

My breath came out in a fog and rose into the milky sky. Snow fell on my eyelashes, and all of Brooklyn turned white, a world in a globe. Every snowflake that I caught was a miracle unlike any other.

Somehow, what they'd had was already over, and she hadn't even been aware of the end. This happened with roses: it was possible to take them for granted all summer as they wound along fences and gates, and then in September, when they faded, how beautiful they'd once been suddenly took hold. That was when people began to yearn for them, and all winter long they'd watch the bare branches for buds, vowing that this time they'd be grateful for all that they had.

It's pure vanity to presume that love exists only on our terms. A red lead may be the universe for the tortoise beetle or the ladybird. A single touch the ecstasy of a lifetime. (180)

The most glorious hour in Manhattan was when twilight fell in sheets across the Great Lawn. Bands of blue turned darker by the moment as the last of the pale light filtered through the boughs of cherry trees and black locusts. In October, the meadows turned gold; the vines were twists of yellow and red.

The beauty of that meadow reminded Hannah of the reasons to live in the world, and the reasons to mistrust those who saw wickedness in others, but never in themselves.

She raged at a world that would allow such injustice to occur. How could the rural, verdant beauty all around her be the domain of such cruelty, a place in which the larks chattered despite the dangers they faced, unable to keep silent as they sang the praises of the sky.

She is surrounded by stalks of dahlias, orange and yellow and pale red, with leaves so big you could write your life story on each one. She looks like a flower in the garden, just like her mother said.

It was a clear, bright, beautiful day, the air tinged with salt, the climbing roses blooming. The graveyard was filled with sunlight.

Even now as the graves of these women went untended, and their passings unmourned, the seeds they had scattered turned the hillsides red and orange from May to September. Some called the pirates' bounty flame trees, but to us they were known as flamboyant trees, for no one could ignore their glorious blooms, with flowers that were larger than a man's open hand. Every time I saw them I thought of these lost women. That was what happened if you waited for love.

You don't hide what you think is beautiful. You hide what is broken. You hide when you're a monster.

When she'd been married she had been to busy to notice that the world was beautiful. Or perhaps she'd known and had forgotten.

How's our blue rose? the doctor asked. ... If you really want to know, I feel sorry for the poor thing, Elinor went on. All wrapped up that way. I'm starting to think there's no point in being a rose if you're tied up and covered with burlap.

the written conjurations and charms formed by the power of her words were so intense and beautiful they turned silver in the dark and could be read by the light of their meaning alone.

There was so much light in the world we knew we would never be able to count it all.

child of a watcher, an angel who had been called to earth by my mother's beauty

Those lines in Gillian's face are the most beautiful part about her. They reveal what she's gone through and what she's survived and who exactly she is, deep inside.

She was a great beauty, and in his experience that would bring her both good fortune and grief.

Life was beautiful, everyone knew that, but it was also bitter and bleak and unfair as hell and where did that leave a person?