Beauty Quotes - Page 54

I asked them: Does it hurt? And the scar people nodded, yes. But it felt somehow wonderful, they said. For one long second, it felt like the world was holding them close.

When they had hurried to the train station with their violin cases, they had drawn almost as many stares as they would on any normal day when their hair was to their knees and sheeting behind them like red silk. A poetic fruit-seller had told them once that they looked like dryads, and they did still, only now they looked like dryads who had tired of snagging their hair on brambles and sliced it all off on the edge of a knife.

She really was pretty, for a grown-up person, but when you are seven, beauty is an abstraction, not an imperative. I wonder what I would have done if she had smiled at me like that now: whether I would have handed my mind or my heart or my identify to her for the asking, as my father did.

Beauty is everlasting And dust is for a time.

Of course to one so modern as I am, `Enfant de mon siècle,’ merely to look at the world will be always lovely. I tremble with pleasure when I think that on the very day of my leaving prison both the laburnum and the lilac will be blooming in the gardens, and that I shall see the wind stir into restless beauty the swaying gold of the one, and make the other toss the pale purple of its plumes, so that all the air shall be Arabia for me. Linnaeus fell on his knees and wept for joy when he saw for the first time the long heath of some English upland made yellow with the tawny aromatic brooms of the common furze; and I know that for me, to whom flowers are part of desire, there are tears waiting in the petals of some rose. It has always been so with me from my boyhood. There is not a single colour hidden away in the chalice of a flower, or the curve of a shell, to which, by some subtle sympathy with the very soul of things, my nature does not answer. Like Gautier, I have always been one of those ‘pour qui le monde visible existe.

She's beautiful,' he murmured.'She's a metre across the hips, easily,' said Julia.'That is her style of beauty,' said Winston.

...the most beautiful things don't always make you happy - often they make you weep...

Since he'd stepped out of medical school, all he'd ever done was fulfil the same three basic templates, again and again and again. The possibility of infinite variation had led only to convergence.

The birds in the sky can never great the king yet their beauty gives the king to stare at them endlessly, wishing to be with them in the sky.

You see what you choose to see, because all perception is a choice.And when you cease to impose your meanings on what you see,your spiritual eyes will open, and you will see a world free of judgmentand shining in its endless beauty.

The beauty of life isn't the perfectioned moments or storybook endings; the beauty of life is when you fall flat on your face, the Lord picks you up, then you look around and cheer, after all, a merry heart is the medicine!

Beauty is everywhere you look, but you have to look.

A beautiful woman can have almost any man she wants. A rich man can have almost any woman he wants.

Finding beauty in the common is the sign of a gifted mind.

Pippa's laugh is bitter, tinged with tears. 'Ha! Why do girls think being beautiful will solve every problem? Being beautiful just creates problems. It's a misery. I wish I were someone else.

as you know that prior to Search Enggine (google, yahoo, bing etc) our knowledge comes from books. and we often underestimate the cover of the book before reading it. where the universe and everything in it were all neatly recorded in the book .. but unfortunately, lately reduced book reader interest. and tonight I say that the inspiration of the book far more powerful than anything .. not even a lot of writers who took also into his imagination. yes, I started to read

They wore their strange beauty like war paint.

The heads of strong old age are beautiful / Beyond all grace of youth

An ugly diamond is still worth more than a beautiful pebble.

Look with open eyes and you will see the beauty of the waterfall.

A woman is only as beautiful as she believes she is, if she can't convince herself, no one else can.

The coast is an edgy place. Living on the coast presents certain stark realities and a wild, rare beauty. Continent confronts ocean. Weather intensifies. It's a place of tide and tantrum; of flirtations among fresh- and saltwaters, forests and shores; of tense negotiations with an ocean that gives much but demands more. Every year the raw rim that is this coast gets hammered and reshaped like molten bronze. This place roils with power and a sometimes terrible beauty. The coast remains youthful, daring, uncertain about tomorrow. The guessing, the risk; in a way, we're all thrill seekers here.

Life is so full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises. Sometimes that beauty is too much for me to handle. Do you know that feeling? When something is just too beautiful? When someone says something or writes something or plays something that moves you to the point of tears, maybe even changes you.

Brought to you by The Corporation: In your homes and in your pants.

We have within ourselves as a species, the ability to find the beauty in everything. And once we master it, we will be some of the gentlest creatures that ever evolved.

I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.

But so often, things of great beauty are full of great corruption.

Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild.

The best thing I have always liked about photographers is that they perceive beauty in everything. Beautify everything with clicks; Sonam was that way, looking for beauty everywhere in every place, in every person, may be it was just a practice of photographers. What if all people really appreciate beauty in the world, themselves and other people, the beauty which makes them fall in love with who they truly are, when love of beauty arouses from hearts even the toughest dreams softens their way.

Close your eyes and open your mind. You will now see the beauty with your imagination.

Ladies, stress shows on your face. Happiness is the true beauty weapon." ( Kym Douglas / Cindy Pearlman, 2006)

Beware ! Heart is too small to feel happy but soul is too big to take glory

To lose confidence in one’s body is to lose confidence in oneself.

That’s the beauty of magic. You can get it no matter how rich or poor you are.

Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart.

The world needs more beautiful things.

Quiet birds rob the universe of beautiful symphonies.

But I don't know when that day will arrive, and it would be too easy to forget to marvel at the beauty in this moment. In every moment.

The human ego is the ugliest part of man. We lift up men who only show us darkness, and put down those brave enough to show us the light. Likewise, people engage in darkness when it is light outside, and acknowledge the light only when it is dark. We abandon those fighting for us to cheer behind those fighting against us. And, we only remember good people and God when it is convenient for us, and take them for granted because their doors are always open - only to chase after closed doors and personalities void of substance and truth.

No matter how plain a woman may be, if truth and honesty are written across her face, she will be beautiful.

Describe plum-blossoms?Better than my verses...whiteWordless Butterflies

If you don’t look at yourself, you can’t know yourself. If you don’t know your flaws, lumps and bumps then someone else can use them against you to make you feel inferior. I think you’re perfect just the way you are. I believe if you hide from who you are, you let everyone else define you instead of you. You are your power, embrace that and be beautiful.

I'd always had an ear for beauty, and maybe I'd had an eye for it as well, but until that day, I'd not recognized that the truth in great music could be found also in great art, that the heart could be lifted and the mind sharpened equally by both.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

I would rather have a man chasing JESUS than a house full of stuffs and garrage filled with big cars.

A far cicada rings high and clear over the river’s heavy wash. Morning glory, a lone dandelion, cassia, orchids. So far from the nearest sea, I am taken aback by the sight of a purple land crab, like a relict of the ancient days when the Indian subcontinent, adrift on the earth’s mantle, moved northward to collide with the Asian landmass, driving these marine rocks, inch by inch, five miles into the skies. The rise of the Himalaya, begun in the Eocene, some fifty million years ago, is still continuing: an earthquake in 1959 caused mountains to fall into the rivers and changed the course of the great Brahmaputra, which comes down out of Tibet through northeastern India to join the Ganges near its delta at the Bay of Bengal.

Amid the moon and the stars, amid the clouds of the night, amid the hills which bordered on the sky with their magnificent silhouette of pointed cedars, amid the speckled patches of the moon, amid the temple buildings that emerged sparkling white out of the surrounding darkness - amid all this, I was intoxicated by the pellucid beauty of Uiko's treachery.

…[S]uddenly your eye, which was already preparing itself for larger dimensions, goes about willingly with little, hesitating, hearkening steps over the many overgrown paths of a long dead experience and stands still by all its landmarks reverently and respectfully. And has forgotten the world, and has no world but a face. I know exactly everything you said then. The figure of the old lady who speaks rarely and reservedly, who hides her hands when a gesture of tenderness would move them, and who only with rare caresses builds bridges to a few people, bridges that no longer exist when she draws back her arm and lies again like an island fantastically repeated on all sides in the mirror of motionless waters. My eyes too were already caught up in the radiance and bound to great and deep beauties.”―from letter to Clara Westhoff Schmargendorf bei Berlin (October 18, 1900)

I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think.

Even nature; the restless waves, irregular trees and stars all out of line show that chaos can be beautiful!

Since middle-class Western women can best be weakened psychologically now that we are stronger materially, the beauty myth, as it has resurfaced in the last generation, has had to draw on more technological sophistication and reactionary fervor than ever before. The modern arsenal of the myth is a dissemination of millions of images of the current ideal; although this barrage is generally seen as a collective sexual fantasy, there is in fact little that is sexual about it. It is summoned out of political fear on the part of male-dominated institutions threatened by women's freedom, and it exploits female guilt and apprehension about our own liberation -- latent fears that we might be going too far.

Comfort is beauty muted by heroin. Sadness is beauty drained by lack of it.

It is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair. Tell me not of your starry eyes, Your lips that seem on roses fed, Your breasts where Cupid trembling lies, Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed. ...Give me, instead of beauty's bust, A tender heart, a loyal mind, Which with temptation I could trust, Yet never linked with error find. One in whose gentle bosom I Could pour my secret heart of woes. Like the care-burdened honey-fly That hides his murmurs in the rose. My earthly comforter! whose love So indefeasible might be, That when my spirit won above Hers could not stay for sympathy.

Remember that there are two kinds of beauty: one of the soul and the other of the body. That of the soul displays its radiance in intelligence, in chastity, in good conduct, in generosity, and in good breeding, and all these qualities may exist in an ugly man. And when we focus our attention upon that beauty, not upon the physical, love generally arises with great violence and intensity. I am well aware that I am not handsome, but I also know that I am not deformed, and it is enough for a man of worth not to be a monster for him to be dearly loved, provided he has those spiritual endowments I have spoken of.

Beauty is a treasure grove within. Beauty has different layers and depths. Peel and and look beyond the surface deep into the heart, the soul, and the mind

I checked my words carefully. Words more powerful than atom bombs and more cutting than AK-47s. People are fragile and words, not bullets will break them, and once they break every part of them spills out. Their soul, spirit, identity, ugliness, and their beauty. It’s all there, right in front of you if you know where to look. Most people see the ugly and I didn't want to become that. I thought I looked for beauty but then wondered why I often say such ugly things.

Rose doesn’t like the flat country, but I always did – flat country seems to give the sky such a chance.

Beautify your breath – beautify your life.

Beauty itself doth of itself persuadeThe eyes of men without orator.

When, indeed, men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, not a quality, as is supposed, but an effect - they refer, in short, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul - not of intellect, or of heart.