Quotes About Beauty

Snow falling in the woods when there's no wind is the most peaceful thing I've ever seen.

la plus belle des savants, la plus savante des belles

Find the psychosis in flower, he thought.

El miedo y el mar son una combinación letal.

The woman in front of him seemed like the work of an artist who had taken the few lines that sketched out a teenager and added color and shape to create a full portrait.

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering--these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love--these are what we stay alive for.

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,Sylvan historian, who canst thus expressA flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape?

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance.

Let the mad poets say whate'er they pleaseOf the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,Haunters of cavern, lake, and waterfall,As a real woman, lineal indeedFrom Pyrrha's pebbles or old Adam's seed.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude!

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

A drainless showerOf light is poesy; 'tis the supreme of power;'Tis might half slumb'ring on its own right arm.

To make delicious moanUpon the midnight hours.

To one who has been long in city pent,'Tis very sweet to look into the fairAnd open face of heaven.

Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject.

Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—Not in lone splendor hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth's human shores.

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,'--that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. - Ode to a Grecian Urn

Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degreesHer rich attire creeps rustling to her knees.

With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.

The poetry of earth is never dead.

What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.