Quotes About Beauty

Quand le monde sera réduit en un seul bois noir pour nos quatre yeux étonnés, - en une plage pour deux enfants fidèles, - en une maison musicale pour notre claire sympathie, - je vous trouverai.

ONCE, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed. One evening I seated Beauty on my knees. And I found her bitter. And I cursed her.

It has been found again. What? – Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.

Cela s'est passé. Je sais aujourd'hui saluer la beauté.

Aphrodite's thirst was never quenched; it was cruel and dreamy. It was certainly the most splendid kind of thirst.

Against snow, a tall Beautiful Being. Whistlings of death and circles of muffled music make this adored body rise, swell and tremble like a ghost; scarlet and black wounds open in the magnificent flesh.

C'était comme une nuit d'hiver, avec une neige pour étouffer le monde décidément.

The flowering sweetness of the stars

Ho teso corde da campanile a campanile; ghirlande da finestra a finestra; catene d'oro da stella a stella, e danzo.

Estendi cordas de campanário a campanário; guirlandas de janela a janela; correntes de ouro de estrela a estrela, e danço.

Mais, vrai, j'ai trop pleuré! Les aubes sont navrantes. Toute lune est atroce et tout soleil amer.

Kesän sinisinä iltoina kulkisin polkuja, vehnän raapimana, tallaisin hentoa ruohoa; mietteissäni tuntisin tuoreuden jaloissani. Antaisin tuulen huuhtoa hiuksiani. En puhuisi, en ajattelisi mitään: mutta loputon rakkaus kohoaisi sydämeeni, ja menisin kauas, kovin kauas niinkuin mustalainen, luontoon - onnellisena, kuin naisen kanssa.

Magical flowers were humming. The turf slopes cradled *him.* Beasts of a fabulous elegance were circulating. Storm clouds were piling up on the rising sea made of an eternity of hot tears.

Delivered to oblivion...growing and flowering with incense and weeds to the sullen whine of nasty flies...I loved deserts, burned out orchards, faded boutiques...I dragged myself down stinking alleyways...General, if there's an old canon left, aim for the glass of splendid shops, into the living rooms...make the city eat its own dust.

Tu viendras, tu viendras, je t'aime ! Ce sera beau. Tu viendras, n'est-ce pas, et même... Elle - Et mon bureau ?

Eternas ondinas, dividid el agua fina. Venus, del azul hermana, conmueve las puras aguas. Judío errante en Noruega, dime, ¿cómo nieva? Viejos exiliados tiernos, contadme el océano. YO-. Nunca esas bebidas puras, ni esas flores de florero, ni leyendas, ni figuras, saciarme pudieron. Coplista, tu ahijada es mi sed que se desboca, hidra íntima sin bocas que roe y devasta.

From castles of bone unknown music comes

Hace ya miles de años que la pálida Ofelia pasa, fantasma blanco por el gran río negro; más de mil años ya que su suave locura murmura su tonada en el aire nocturno.

Yes, Man is sad beneath the echoing sky; he clothes himself, he is no longer chaste, he has soiled his splendid body, gift of the gods... Yes, even after death, in pallid skeletons he hopes to live, insulting the beauty he once owned!

A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing. One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up. I armed myself against justice. I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure's been turned over to you! (Lines 1-5)

Elle est retrouvée — Quoi? — l'Éternité. C'est la mer mêlée Au soleil.

Truth that is naked is the most beautiful, and the simpler its expression the deeper is the impression it makes; this is partly because it gets unobstructed hold of the hearerÂ's mind without his being distracted by secondary thoughts, and partly because he feels that here he is not being corrupted or deceived by the arts of rhetoric, but that the whole effect is got from the thing itself.

When we analyse the picture into a large number of particles of paint, we lose the aesthetic significance of the picture. The particles of paint go into the scientific inventory, and it is claimed that everything that there really was in the picture is kept. But this way of keeping a thing may be much the same as losing it. The essence of a picture (as distinct from the paint) is arrangement.

The actuality of Nature is like the beauty of Nature. We can scarcely describe the beauty of a landscape as non-existent when there is no conscious being to witness it; but it is through consciousness that we can attribute a meaning to it. And so it is with the actuality of the world. If actuality means 'known to mind' then it is a purely subjective character of the world; to make it objective we must substitute 'knowable to mind'.