Quotes About Beauty

It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave.

You've never in your life seen a horse run so fast! He's all power-all beauty.

The Black was looking out on the open sea; his ears pricked forward, his thin-skinned nostrils quivering, his black mane flowing like windswept flame. Alec could not turn his eyes away; he could not believe such a perfect creature existed.

It is in the body that we exist and work out our salvation. It is in the body that we see and take delight in the beauties of God's created universe, and in the body that we ourselves bear the marks of Christ's passion.

her mouth was a cruel flower. "Hair

The most beautiful faces have some ugly in them.

It was part of the beauty, but also the tragedy, of this sport that the spectators were the ultimate judges of who sat on the throne.

Etwas Einmaliges, etwas Unvergängliches formte sich in meinem Kopf. Ein kunstvolles Gebilde aus Worten und Sätzen, das sich wie eine außerirdische Kreatur von fremdartiger Schönheit in meinem Denken materialisierte - und zu mir sprach, in makellosen Versen! Es was ein Gedicht. Es hatte nicht das Geringste mit meinem eigenen Denken zu tun, es waren Gedanken aus dem All! Ein Geschenk der Sterne!

That's how powerful you are, girl...You pretty, but pretty alone is not what people see. You the kinda pretty, the kinda beauty, that's like a mirror. Men and women see themselves in you, only now they so beautiful that they can't bear to see you go.

All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.

Art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass.

It is the addition of strangeness to beauty that constitutes the romantic character in art.

One of the most beautiful passages of Rousseau is that in the sixth book of Confessions, where he describes the awakening in him of the literary sense. Of such wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of art for its own sake, has most.

What is important, then, is not that the critic should possess a correct abstract definition of beauty for the intellect, but a certain kind of temperament, the power of being deeply moved by the presence of beautiful objects.

Such discussions help us very little to enjoy what has been well done in art or poetry, to discriminate between what is more and what is less excellent in them, or to use words like beauty, excellence, art, poetry, with a more precise meaning than they would otherwise have.

Many attempts have been made by writers on art and poetry to define beauty in the abstract, to express it in the most general terms, to find some universal formula for it.

La valentía no es el roble majestuoso que ve ir y venir las tormentas; es el frágil retoño de una flor que se abre en la nieve.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyesMay weep, but never see,A night of memories and of sighsI consecrate to thee.

Ah what avails the sceptred race,Ah what the form divine!

The way was long, the wind was cold,The Minstrel was infirm and old;His withered cheek, and tresses gray,Seem'd to have known a better day.

Nothing is more completely the child of Art than a Garden.

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.

What skilful limner e'er would choose To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?

Oh, Brignal banks are wild and fair,And Greta woods are green,And you may gather garlands thereWould grace a summer queen.