Quotes About Beauty

He only stopped once, to pick her some great blue violets. She thanked him with real pleasure. In the company of this common man the world was beautiful and direct. For the first time she felt the influence of spring. His arm swept the horizon gracefully; violets, like other things, existed in great profusion there; would she like to see them? 'Ma buoni uomini.' He bowed. Certainly. Good men first, violets afterwards.

But a lover is dogmatic. To him the world shall be beautiful and pure. When it is not, he ignores it.

How fortunate that it was an 'unconventional' party, where formalities are ruled out! On this basis Aziz found the English ladies easy to talk to, he treated them like men. Beauty would have troubled him, but Mrs Moore was so old and Miss Quested so plain that he was spared this anxiety.

There stood a young man who had the figure of a Greek athlete and the face of an English one...Just where he began to be beautiful the clothes started.

Now it is all dark. Now Beauty and Passion seem never to have existed. I know. But remember the mountains over Florence and the view...

England was alive, throbbing through all her estuaries, crying for joy through the mouths of all her gulls, and the north wind, with contrary motion, blew stronger against her rising seas.

The sky, you know, was gold, and the ground all blue, and for a moment he looked like some one in a book.

The world," she thought, "is certainly full of beautiful things, if only I could come across them.

But Italy worked some marvel in her. It gave her light...

Beautiful?" said Miss Bartlett, puzzled at the word. "Are not beauty and delicacy the same?

yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time—beautiful?" "Beautiful?" said Miss Bartlett, puzzled at the word. "Are not beauty and delicacy the same?" "So one would have thought," said the other helplessly. "But things are so difficult, I sometimes think.

All of us, even the sophisticated, yearn for permanence, and to the unsophisticated permanence is the chief excuse for a work of art.

She too is enamoured of heavy winds, and vast panoramas, and green expanses of the sea.

I can give points to a picture, I dare say,' said Maurice, having glanced at the Michelangelo. 'Clive, you're a silly little fool, and since you've brought it up I think you're beautiful, the only beautiful person I've ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.

Look at that picture, for instance. I love it because, like the painter himself, I love the subject. I don't judge it with eyes of the normal man. There seem two roads for arriving at Beauty—one is in common, and all the world has reached Michelangelo by it, but the other is private to me and a few more.

One doesn't come to Italy for niceness," was the retort; "one comes for life. Buon giorno! Buon giorno!" bowing right and left. "Look at that adorable wine-cart! How the driver stares at us, dear, simple soul!

Clive, és um pateta, e, já que tocaste no assunto, posso dizer-te que te acho muito belo, a única pessoa bela que já vi na vida. Adoro a tua voz e tudo o que tem a ver contigo, até as tuas roupas ou a divisão onde estás sentado. Adoro-te.

Porquê ter filhos? - perguntou. - Porquê ter sempre filhos? É muito mais belo que o amor termine onde começou, e a Natureza sabe-o.

There was no one even to tell her which, of all the sepulchral slabs that paved the nave and transepts, was the one that was really beautiful, the one that had been most praised by Mr. Ruskin.

O escritor americano Philip Roth, falecido neste maio de 2018, insistia que a literatura não é o "concurso de beleza moral" em que hoje se tenta transformá-la a golpes de politicamente correto, inclusão social e análogos.

It is like you to have thought of such a beautiful thing." Not a thing, only an ending," said Helen rather sadly; and the sense of tragedy closed in on Margaret again as soon as she left the house.

Nothing that can stop you retreating into splendour and beauty—into the thoughts and beliefs that make the real life—the real you.

The sky settles everything--not only climates and seasons but when the earth shall be beautiful.

There was no one even to tell her which, of all the sepulchral slabs that paved the nave and transepts, was the one that was really beautiful, the one that had been most praised by Mr. Ruskin. Then the pernicious charm of Italy worked on her, and, instead of acquiring information, she began to be happy.