Quotes About Beauty

An author really ought to have nothing but flowers in the room where he works.

I am dying of love. That is how it is...I loved her so! And I love her still....and am dying of love for her. - I kissed her alive...and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead.

Raoul suffered, for she was very beautiful and he was shy and he dared not confess his love, even to himself.

Of love ... daroga ... I am dying ... of love ... That is how it is ... loved her so! ... And I love her still ... daroga ... and I am dying of love for her, I ... I tell you! ... If you knew how beautiful she was ... when she let me kiss her ... alive ... It was the first ... time, daroga, the first ... time I ever kissed a woman ... Yes, alive ... I kissed her alive ... and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead! The

We worship beauty, thinking it has innate meaning. Perhaps it is little more than fortunate inheritance and good health. Can we see beyond the shell to the man or woman within?

Though trodden beneath the shepherd's heel, the wild hyacinth blooms on the ground.

It had been washed clean of beauty. In the final reckoning there is only love, only that divinity. That we are capable only of being what we are remains our unforgivable sin.

Dorcas's skin was flecked with little golden freckles, and she was so slender that I was always aware of her bones; yet she was more desirable in her imperfections than Jolenta had ever been in the lushness of her flesh.

I waded out of the sea while loving it still, even as I had earlier dropped from the stars while loving them; and in truth there is no place in Briah that is not lovely when it no longer holds the threat of death, save for the places men have made so.

The hope in her voice now made me think of a flower growing in shadow.

The pool and the miniature vale that contained it, always dark, grew darker still. Looking up after countless kisses, he saw idling fish of mottled gold and silver, black, white, and red, hanging in air above the goddess's upraised hand, and for the first time noticed light streaming from a lamp of silver filigree in the branches of a stunted tree. "Where did they go?" he asked.

And then I saw it—not below, where I had looked, but over my head, a vast and noble curve stretching away to either side, with white cloud flying between ourselves and it, a world all speckled over with blue and green like the egg of a wild bird.

Though trodden beneath the shepherd's heel, the wild hyacinth blooms on the ground. He

The young king, bright with such gold as is not found in any mine, strode across the waves; and the glory of him was such that he who looked on it should never look upon another.

I said nothing. It may have been that I was thinking; but if so, my mind was too much filled with sleep to be conscious of its thought. Instead, I became profoundly aware of my physical surroundings. The sky above my face in all its grandeur seemed to have been made solely for my benefit, and to be presented for my inspection now. I lay upon the ground as upon a woman, and the very air that surrounded me seemed a thing as admirable as crystal and as fluid as wine.

But strength still goes out from your thorns, and from your abysses the sound of music. Your shadows lie on my heart like roses and your nights are like strong wine.

Undines are the elemental spirits of water, the word undine being derived from unda, wave. Like all elemental spirits, they partake of the character of their element, so undines are beautiful, restless, and suffocating.

Then he was gone, and the girl lay hugging her child, looking through the leaves at the bright band of The Waterfall and the broad seas and scattered storms of sisterworld. Then her eyes closed, and she could pull sisterworld from the tree. She put the blue rind to her lips and tasted sweetness. Then she woke again, the sweet juice still in her mouth. Someone was bending over her, and for a moment she was afraid.

Is that the moon? I have been told it's more fertile.

Here Rose the Graced, not Rose the Chaste, reposes; The scent that rises is no scent of roses.

The forest had set its own dead there as well, stumps and limbs that time had turned to stone, so that I wondered as I descended, if it might not be that Urth is not, as we assume, older than her daughters the trees, and imagined them growing in the emptiness before the face of the sun, tree clinging to tree with tangled roots and interlacing twigs until at last their accumulation became our Urth, and they only the nap of her garment.

After you've looked at normal women's bodies, look at yourself in the mirror. Stand there for at least three minutes, once a week, for six weeks. Every time you notice a stretch mark, a sag, a wrinkle, say to yourself, "This is what living looks like. This is what loving looks like." And you will be telling the truth.

Your body is the piece of the universe you've been given, the place where love and joy and grief happen, where happiness unfolds. Do you really want to keep believing that it's a horrible, ugly, lumpy thing? Do you really want to keep punching yourself like that?

Everything, no matter how beautiful, is only with us for awhile.