Quotes About Beauty

She fell in love with an extinct volcano.

Her beauty goes to my head.

Vienna! The name is magic to me (no, I don't destroy magic!) and I wanted to be so happy there with June, with Vienna, with her women, her lovely boulevards, her desuetude, her softness.

I fell in love with your portrait, Jeanne, because it will never change. I have such a fear of seeing you grow old, Jeanne; I fell in love with an unchanging you that will never be taken away from me.

Wear that beautiful dress you had on when you first came to Clichy. I want to see the white of your flesh against it. I want to commit excesses.

Could she love such an unstormy sky as his eyes, such a downy and untarnished skin, such a candid smile?

a beautiful voice that haunted people

What he asked was not the caprice of a lover, but the desire of a painter, of an artist. His eyes were hungry for her beauty.

Su belleza me embargó. Mientras permanecía sentada frente a ella, me di cuenta de que sería capaz de hacer cualquier locura por aquella mujer, lo que me pidiera. Henry se desvaneció. Ella era el color, la brillantez, lo extraño.

Su papel en la vida la tiene absorbida. Sé muy bien por qué: su belleza le acarrea dramas y acontecimientos. Las ideas significan poco. Vi en ella una caricatura de personaje teatral y dramático. Disfraz, actitudes, forma de hablar. Es una actriz soberbia. Sólo eso. No he podido llegar a su interior.

To love anything, to appreciate anything, one has to live with it. Otherwise it has no meaning, no beauty.

Cabello rubio, tez pálida, demoníacas cejas angulares, una sonrisa cruel con un hoyuelo cautivador. Pérfida, infinitamente deseable, me atraía hacia ella como hacia la muerte.

En el café advierto cenizas bajo la piel de su rostro. Desintegración. Siento una terrible ansiedad. Siento ganas de abrazarla. Noto cómo retrocede hacia la muerte y yo estoy dispuesta a acoger la muerte para seguirla, para abrazarla. Se muere ante mis ojos. Su belleza provocadora y sombría se apaga. Su extraña, masculina fuerza.

But that is poetry, I protest. Poetry is an abstraction.

What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.

There were silences in my head. I could abandon myself completely to the pleasure of multiple relationships, to the beauty of the day, to the joys of the day. It was as if a cancer in me had ceased gnawing me. The cancer of introspection.

The rainbow comes and goes. Enjoy it while it lasts. Don't be surprised by its departure, and rejoice when it returns.

At the word witch, we imagine the horrible old crones from Macbeth. But the cruel trials witches suffered teach us the opposite. Many perished precisely because they were young and beautiful.

We should enjoy this summer, flower by flower, as if it were to be the last one we'll see.

The loveliest creations of men are persistently painful. What would be the description of happiness?

I have always thought that great artists were those who dared to confer the right of beauty on things so natural that people say on seeing them, Why did I never realize before that that was beautiful too?

The most beautiful things are those that madness prompts and reason writes. Essential to remain between the two, close to madness when you dream and close to reason when you write

Messieurs, il faut aimer son aigle, l'aimer pour qu'il devienne beau ; car c'est parce qu'il sera beau que vous devez aimer votre aigle...

Cve?e, istina je, ne hrani ?oveka, — govorila je ona — ali ono unosi radost u život. Ako biste od lepih mirisnih bašta napravili vrtove, nema sumnje da biste mi dali da jedem, ali biste u isti mah ubijali volju za život.