Best 5 210 of Beauty quotes - MyQuotes
You are my favorite song; a rhythm of beauty that captures my spirit.
Why live in fear that he might find me disgusting someday, when I could make it happen right now?
She simply converted an average face into beautiful face and a beautiful face into an angelic face.
Human beings, in a sense, may be thought of as multidimensional creatures composed of such poetic considerations as the individual need for self-realization, subdued passions for overwhelming beauty, and a hunger for meaning beyond the flavors that enter and exit the physical body.
It is one of the prodigious privileges of art that the horrific, artistically expressed, becomes beauty, and that sorrow, given rhythm and cadence, fills the spirit with a calm joy.
Being naked approaches being revolutionary; going barefoot is mere populism.
Louisa May Alcott
If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that’s all that you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind: Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage. These are the things I cherish so in you. I so wish I could give my girls a more just world. But I know you’ll make it a better place. - Marmee
Marcus Tullius Cicero
What an ugly beast the ape, and how like us.
His eyes were like a forest at night—dark, wild, and dangerous. They were as fey as the rest of him, calling to mind thoughts of terrifying legends and powerful magic. You could fall into eyes like that, she thought, and find yourself trapped forever. In that moment, he resembled exactly what he was: a witch prince, out for blood.
Sorcha took the elevator down to the basement of the fashion house. She glanced at her stunningly beautiful reflection in the mirror and smiled to herself. How fortunate she was to be a vampire - no gray hairs, no wrinkles, no broken nails, no weight problems, and no PMT. What bliss! And how fortunate it was that all the legends about vampires were not true. She could not imagine an existence where she could not see and admire her own likeness - such a life to her would be intolerable and tedious. How could any female, even a vampire, survive without being able to see their own reflection? How could they do their hair and makeup? The very idea was totally preposterous.
You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret. Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It’s you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.
She’s got to be a ghost. First of all, she’s just too beautiful. Her features are gorgeous, but it’s not only that. She’s so perfect I know she can’t be real. She’s like a person who stepped right out of a dream. The purity of her beauty gives me a feeling close to sadness –a very natural feeling, though one that only something extraordinary could produce.
Maa kuohuu syreenien sinipunaisia terttuja, pihlajain valkeata kukkahärmää, tervakkojen punaisia tähtisikermiä. Sinisiä, keltaisia, valkeita kukkia lainehtivat niityt mielettöminä merinä. Ja tuoksua! Ihanampaa kuin pyhä suitsutus! Kuumaa ja värisevää ja hulluksijuovuttavaa, pakanallista maan ihon tuoksua!
While beauty made its own rules, it also created its own problems and disappointments.
She dove, plunging fully beneath the surface and came up again in tears. Rivulets ran from her face, and the sun ignited them each, transforming them, even amid her sorrow, into gilded runnels set with a diamond shine.
Brenda, do you know God loves you? He really does. To Him, you're perfect, absolutely perfect. You always have been.
The beauty of the natural character does not need to pretend. It displays and effects like the fragrance.
God's voice will be heard in the cave but only His visions will be revealed to you on the mountain. (A bit deep). God will always love you and will always speak to you but when you lose your perspective, you won't see his plan.
It is because every one tinder Heaven recognizes beauty as beauty that the idea of ugliness exists.
When I surprise myself at the mirror I am not frightened because I think I am ugly or beautiful. It is because I discover I am of a different nature. After not having seen myself for a while I almost forget I am human, I forget my past and I am as free from end and awareness as something merely alive. I am also surprised, eyes open pale at the mirror, that there are so many things in me besides what I know, so many things always silent.
Stacy Snapp-killian Aka Stacyk
It doesn't matter if your life is perfect as long as your hair color is.
Every person is able to add beauty, whether by growing flowers, or singing, or cooking luscious meals, or raising sweet pets. Every part of life can be art.
You looked so beautiful- your hair spread out around your head against the linoleum. Though your think brown curls had thinned since you'd started losing weight, they still fell in soft waves. You reminded me of a mermaid, your skin all shiny, your lips so full compared to the harshness of your angular cheekbones and pointed chin.
Her unusual dark hair and sultry eyes made her stand out--- Anne Boleyn was Tudor England's Angelina Jolie amid a sea of Reese Witherspoons.
Some years ago, when the images which this world affords first opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summer and heard the rustling of the leaves and the warbling of the birds, and these were all to me, I should have wept to die; now it is my only consolation.
When you learn to have the heart of praise in the presence of your enemies, you set the table; if you can work with God in darkness enough depending on the light that He showed you in the last season, you will learn to read your enemies as a sign that it is time to eat. ( a bit deep). Whenever you sense a crisis in your life, note that your harvest is near.
Donna Lynn Hope
So what if you're plain? Anyone can like a beautiful woman or a handsome man. That's easy. But power is the ability to inspire attraction without the obvious.
In the search for understanding and awakening we are drawn to those teachings that convey the deepest wisdom with the greatest beauty.
You cannot wait for an untroubled world to have an untroubled moment. The terrible phone call, the rainstorm, the sinister knock on the door—they will all come. Soon enough arrive the treacherous villain and the unfair trial and the smoke and the flames of the suspicious fires to burn everything away. In the meantime, it is best to grab what wonderful moments you find lying around.
[On vanity:] The nose of Cleopatra: if it had been shorter, the face of the earth would have changed.
Their [girls] sexual energy, their evaluation of adolescent boys and other girls goes thwarted, deflected back upon the girls, unspoken, and their searching hungry gazed returned to their own bodies. The questions, Whom do I desire? Why? What will I do about it? are turned around: Would I desire myself? Why?...Why not? What can I do about it? The books and films they see survey from the young boy's point of view his first touch of a girl's thighs, his first glimpse of her breasts. The girls sit listening, absorbing, their familiar breasts estranged as if they were not part of their bodies, their thighs crossed self-consciously, learning how to leave their bodies and watch them from the outside. Since their bodies are seen from the point of view of strangeness and desire, it is no wonder that what should be familiar, felt to be whole, become estranged and divided into parts. What little girls learn is not the desire for the other, but the desire to be desired. Girls learn to watch their sex along with the boys; that takes up the space that should be devoted to finding out about what they are wanting, and reading and writing about it, seeking it and getting it. Sex is held hostage by beauty and its ransom terms are engraved in girls' minds early and deeply with instruments more beautiful that those which advertisers or pornographers know how to use: literature, poetry, painting, and film. This outside-in perspective on their own sexuality leads to the confusion that is at the heart of the myth. Women come to confuse sexual looking with being looked at sexually ("Clairol...it's the look you want"); many confuse sexually feeling with being sexually felt ("Gillete razors...the way a woman wants to feel"); many confuse desiring with being desirable. "My first sexual memory," a woman tells me, "was when I first shaved my legs, and when I ran my hand down the smooth skin I felt how it would feel to someone else's hand." Women say that when they lost weight they "feel sexier" but the nerve endings in the clitoris and nipples don't multiply with weight loss. Women tell me they're jealous of the men who get so much pleasure out of the female body that they imagine being inside the male body that is inside their own so that they can vicariously experience desire. Could it be then that women's famous slowness of arousal to men's, complex fantasy life, the lack of pleasure many experience in intercourse, is related to this cultural negation of sexual imagery that affirms the female point of view, the culture prohibition against seeing men's bodies as instruments of pleasure? Could it be related to the taboo against representing intercourse as an opportunity for a straight woman actively to pursue, grasp, savor, and consume the male body for her satisfaction, as much as she is pursued, grasped, savored, and consumed for his?
...[F]ireworks had for her a direct and magical appeal. Their attraction was more complex than that of any other form of art. They had pattern and sequence, colour and sound, brilliance and mobility; they had suspense, surprise, and a faint hint of danger; above all, they had the supreme quality of transience, which puts the keenest edge on beauty and makes it touch some spring in the heart which more enduring excellences cannot reach.
There are no better cosmetics than a severe temperance and purity, modesty and humility, a gracious temper and calmness of spirit; and there is no true beauty without the signatures of these graces in the very countenance.
Beauty and ugliness do not exist in nature. It's the humans who created these concepts to measure the appeal of an organic or non-organic object to themselves.
We should always hope and expect to see a brand new day filled with hope, love and joy.
For you see each day I love you more today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow. Just because you're beautiful and perfect, it's made you conceited.
To say she is only a woman is to say a violin is a piece of wood with strings, and Dante is mere ink printed on paper.
A rose that grows without a thorn is robbed of its beauty.
Asta Sollilja slept on, her head in the corner, mouth open, chin up, and head back, with one hand under her ear and the other half-open on the coverlet as if she thought in her sleep that someone would come and lay happiness in her palm.
Bridget wondered whether it all came down to the claustrophobic choice between dying beautiful or living ugly.
Up past the old lime kiln built into the side of a hill we take a hard right at a clearing lined by brittle apple trees still willing to bear fruit. I snap sticks beneath my feet and steal pictures of the view while you reach for something sweet, as much as it bows to you.
...notice all the many beautiful things, nature, your own soul, stuff other people do.... like help out, smile, create, dance...
My grandmother always told me: beauty fades but dumb is forever.
Oh no I have not lain on Beauty Rests like this afraid to rise at night for fear that I might somehow miss some movement beauty might have made
Dreaming is beautiful but actions makes it a reality that unfolds its true beauty.
He had always looked at the world and seen it in a thousand different colors, his fingers itching to paint each turn of light, each curl of the wind sweeping through the silver streets. Every shade was unique in Valen's eyes. And yet... he was losing colors, too.
I do put on a little make-up every day because it helps me feel put together. Mascara is essential.
Beauty is everywhere, you just have to see it first.
The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries out in terror before being vanquished.
What was true beauty? Was it beauty if you found it in something ugly and insignificant?