Quotes About Beauty

I placed a jar in Tennessee,And round it was, upon a hill.It made the slovenly wildernessSurround that hill.

Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four Hills and a cloud.

The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.

A poem is a meteor.

People should like poetry the way a child likes snow, and they would if poets wrote it.

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams And our desires.

She says, "But in contentment I still feel The need for imperishable bliss." Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams And our desires. Is there no change of death in paradise? Does ripe fruit never fall? or do the boughs Hang always heavy in that perfect sky, Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth, With rivers like our own that seek for seas They never find, the same receding shores That never touch with inarticulate pang?

Beauty is momentary in the mind -- The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies; the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing.

Sigh for me, night-wind, in the noisy leaves of the oak. / I am tired. Sleep for me, heaven over the hill. / Shout for me, loudly and loudly, joyful sun, when you rise.

I placed a jar in Tennessee and round it was upon a hill.

From oriole to crow, note the decline In music. Crow is realist. But, then, Oriole, also, may be realist.

Poetry is a finikin thing of air That lives uncertainly and not for long Yet radiantly beyond much lustier blurs.

The stars are putting on their glittering belts, They throw around their shoulders cloaks that flash Like a great shadow's last embellishment

I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.

Gubbinal" That strange flower, the sun, Is just what you say. Have it your way. The world is ugly, And the people are sad. That tuft of jungle feathers, That animal eye, Is just what you say. That savage of fire, That seed, Have it your way. The world is ugly, And the people are sad.

A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.

Then the sea and heaven rolled as one and from the two came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue.

Her green mind made the world around her green.

You like it under the trees in autumn, Because everything is half dead.

The mere flowing of the water is a gaiety

It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow.

Diaries are very futile. I must be all dream or all deed. It is quite impossible for me to express any of the beauty I feel to half the degree I feel it; and yet it is a great pleasure to seize an impression and lock it up in words: you feel as if you had it safe forever.

In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud.

Let the place of the solitaires Be a place of perpetual undulation. Whether it be in mid-sea On the dark, green water-wheel, Or on the beaches, There must be no cessation Of motion, or of the noise of motion, The renewal of noise And manifold continuation; And, most, of the motion of thought And its restless iteration, In the place of the solitaires, Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation