Best 5193 quotes in «beauty quotes» category

This. This is exactly it. "It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside — but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond — only a glimpse — and heard a note of unearthly music. This moment came rarely — went swiftly, leaving her breathless with the inexpressible delight of it. She could never recall it — never summon it — never pretend it; but the wonder of it stayed with her for days. It never came twice with the same thing. Tonight the dark boughs against that far-off sky had given it. It had come with a high, wild note of wind in the night, with a shadow wave over a ripe field, with a grey bird lighting on her windowsill in a storm, with the singing of “Holy, holy, holy” in church, with a glimpse of the kitchen fire when she had come home on a dark autumn night, with the spirit-like blue of ice palms on a twilit pane, with a felicitous new word when she writing down a ‘description’ of something. And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty." — Emily of New Moon by ‪

This transformation begins in the spinning of the soul, hanged upside down, massively re-arranged, motion light. By inch the radical takes place the old is decomposed, the gruesome has been destroyed melting into something beautiful. What has seemed to harm you brought you to life. - CHANGE, A Poem

This was trail magic. Sea Breeze’s fire, his light, his heat, his life, remained, their salvation. It is a fact that all drainages, if followed downhill, lead to the same lowland water body. Lost and fallen hikers follow drainages down because walking ridges is harder. And so, despite the complex web of paths, waterfalls, cliffs, as a hiker wanders downhill, drainages merge, faint, abstract paths coalesce, thicken, until there is one path – the one, natural, trodden way. It isn’t a coincidence that Sea Breeze, Brandon Day and Gina Allen, and countless other hikers all wandered, lost, down the same steep slope to nowhere.

This was why Kiki had dreaded having girls: she knew she wouldn't be able to protect them from self-disgust.

This world is of a single piece; yet, we invent nets to trap it for our inspection. Then we mistake our nets for the reality of the piece. In these nets we catch the fishes of the intellect but the sea of wholeness forever eludes our grasp. So, we forget our original intent and then mistake the nets for the sea. Three of these nets we have named Nature, Mathematics, and Art. We conclude they are different because we call them by different names. Thus, they are apt to remain forever separated with nothing bonding them together. It is not the nets that are at fault but rather our misunderstanding of their function as nets. They do catch the fishes but never the sea, and it is the sea that we ultimately desire.

This was the first time I thought of S— that day. Her music was beautiful, her voice was beautiful, her body was beautiful. Even the dirty little pads of her feet were beautiful. I cursed myself then. For once, heaven had sent me Beauty in its most perfected form and I abandoned it. She might not have been a girl after all but an angel: a force to guide me on this hazardous path of life I hurry down. How can life be hazardous if it can only end in death?

This world is too big to only care about skin, hair and looks. There is too much going on around us all the time. This universe doesn’t stop for you and me, this world is not going to end with our worthless anxiety and sadness. Don’t put your happiness in someone else’s hands. Just because someone tells you that you are not beautiful doesn’t make you an ugly person from within overnight.

Thorns with rose petals, beauty with imperfection, softness of insensibility, pain of love; duality of human nature

...this world would be a whole lot better if we just made an effort to be less horrible to one another. If we took just five minutes to recognize each other's beauty, instead of attacking each other for our differences. That's not hard. It's really an easier and better way to live. And ultimately, it saves lives.

Thomas Moran Paints This place gets inside you with its soft reds And tans. You can feel the lithe sweep of brushes Inside your head. Your empty hands moving From side to side involuntarily. It is like seeing An angel’s brilliancy for the first time and trying To describe it to your own soul in a language Of the eye your heart can understand The light is always different here getting darker Near the river paler near the rim. But it is The way the canyon breathes warm air rising Cool air settling that makes the colors vibrant Gives them luster. I can pile and scrape paint On a canvas forever and miss the one rare Note that hides in the throat of a canyon wren But I can dream that bird within me and capture It on silk where its song will bring this magical Secret landscape into my art on its wings.

Those people who shoot endless time-lapse films of unfurling roses and tulips have the wrong idea. They should train their cameras instead on the melting of pack ice, the green filling of ponds, the tidal swings…They should film the glaciers of Greenland, some of which creak along at such a fast clip that even the dogs bark at them. They should film the invasion of the southernmost Canadian tundra by the northernmost spruce-fir forest, which is happening right now at the rate of a mile every 10 years. When the last ice sheet receded from the North American continent, the earth rebounded 10 feet. Wouldn’t that have been a sight to see?

Thorns do not diminish a rose’s beauty.

Those who are esteemed umpires of taste, are often persons who have acquired some knowledge of admired pictures or sculptures, and have an inclination for whatever is elegant; but if you inquire whether they are beautiful souls, and whether their own acts are like fair pictures, you learn that they are selfish and sensual. Their cultivation is local, as if you should rub a log of dry wood in one spot to produce fire, all the rest remaining cold. Their knowledge of the fine arts is some study of rules and particulars, or some limited judgment of color or form which is exercised for amusement or for show. It is a proof of the shallowness of the doctrine of beauty, as it lies in the minds of our amateurs, that men seem to have lost the perception of the instant dependence of form upon soul.

Those who love to live enjoy the beauty of life.

Those who don't believe in sensuality will never experience the glamour of life.

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

... those who seek the lost Lord will find traces of His being and beauty in all that men have made, from music and poetry and sculpture to the gingerbread men in the pâtisseries, from the final calculation of the pure mathematician to the first delighted chalk drawing of a small child.

Those who say they don't have the time to take care of their skin, will sooner or later have to find the time for corrective treatments.

THoughts have unique beauties, you will never be able to express it in words.

Though you are as a drop in the ocean, without you, the universe would be empty.

Thoughts have unique beauties you will never able to express it in words.

three things concur in creating beauty: first of all integrity or perfection, and for this reason we consider ugly all incomplete things; then proper proportion or consonance; and finally clarity and light, and in fact we call beautiful those things of definite color.

Thousands of channels there are through which the beauty of your soul may sail even unto our thoughts. Above all is there the wonderful, central channel of love.

Through our heart, we gain access to a psychological and emotional experience of abundance that, at times for me, is overwhelming it is so beautiful. There is beauty in each of us that is truly astonishing, a beauty that expresses itself on one level as abundance and on another level as endless healing, and finally a perspective that is so peaceful, so restful, that we can reside in it even in the face of this lunatic world that we live in.

Thus the little mermaid learned her world’s greatest paradox: that their currency was beauty, and their coin was body parts.

Through the window of my soul and the mirror of my mind, I was looking for the beauty of my life. I could not find it, but I found it in the glint of a dew drop at the edge of a dancing leaf.

Tie love and loyalty around your neck.

Time is a great healer, but a lousy beautician.

Time makes everything mean and shabby and wrinkled. The tragedy of life, Howard, is not that the beautiful things die young, but that they grow old and mean.

Timer - timer i fjeldene. I mørke kan hænde, i uveir og kamp - Og de lyse, ugripelige, de av forfærdelig skjønhet. Dem du nødig nævner, og aldri kan dele med nogen, fordi de tilhører din sjæls ytterste ensomhet.

To a physicist, beauty means symmetry and simplicity. If a theory is beautiful, this means it has a powerful symmetry that can explain a large body of data in the most compact, economical manner. More precisely, and equation is considered to be beautiful if it remains the same when we interchange its components among themselves.

Time unfolds beauty, wonder, and mystery to reveal the auspicious tapestry of life.

To be beautiful, handsome, means that you possess a power which makes all smile upon and welcome you; that everybody is impressed in your favor and inclined to be of your opinion; that you have only to pass through a street or to show yourself at a balcony to make friends and to win mistresses from among those who look upon you. What a splendid, what a magnificent gift is that which spares you the need to be amiable in order to be loved, which relieves you of the need of being clever and ready to serve, which you must be if ugly, and enables you to dispense with the innumerable moral qualities which you must possess in order to make up for the lack of personal beauty.

To behold such majestic beauty, is admiring the creative mind and finger of God.

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

To be human is to seek beauty, Shallan. Do not despair, do not end the hunt because thorns grow in your way.

To be crisp,in order to invent Beauty, you have to fly from the extreme end of your Imagination,and to reach there,you have to be alive with an urge for solitary travels, physically or mentally,where those experiences can give you a great Reflection on your Creativity.

Today is the winter solstice. The planet tilts just so to its star, lists and holds circling in a fixed tension between veering and longing, and spins helpless, exalted, in and out of that fleet blazing touch. Last night Orion vaulted and spread all over the sky, pagan and lunatic, his shoulder and knee on fire, his sword three suns at the ready-for what? I won’t see this year again, not again so innocent; and longing wrapped round my throat like a scarf. “For the Heavenly Father desires that we should see,” says Ruysbroeck, “and that is why He is ever saying to our inmost spirit one deep unfathomable word and nothing else.” But what is the word? Is this mystery or coyness? A cast-iron bell hung from the arch of my rib cage; when I stirred, it rang, or it tolled, a long syllable pulsing ripples up my lungs and down the gritty sap inside my bones, and I couldn’t make it out; I felt the voiced vowel like a sigh or a note but I couldn’t catch the consonant that shaped it into sense.

To be wise: You take the knowledge you have gained and use it to script words together to benefit yourself and others.

Today may be your last chance to be you, someone you forgot to completely immerse yourself in because you were too worried about the details. The details that, no matter how many times you thought them through, brought you no closer to understanding. They just tied up your mind and prevented you from really letting in the things you love. Your demon that is standing before the beautiful floodgate and is keeping you in a dehydrated nothingness. Give him permission to walk away. He is not your keeper. You are his.

Today, take a moment to celebrate you. Your beauty. Your style. Your sense of inner mischief. The way you glow in the sunlight. Your strut in those badass boots. The way the dress hugs your soft curves. The gleam in your eye. The curve of your irrepressible smile. The line of your collarbone. The way you know, underneath all the doubts and insecurities and demons that you are, in fact, magic. And what’s more? You always have been. You don’t need someone else to say so. This isn’t for likes or comments. You don’t need to book a photoshoot for this celebration. This is between you and you. For you to take the time to see yourself. To smile at your own beauty. Find a spot where you feel the energy. Where the sun hits just so. Where the colors or textures make you feel more alive, more you. Find somewhere to prop your phone and set the timer on your camera. You don’t need special equipment. And then just see what happens. Be open and curious about what wants to be seen. If someone sees you and stares or laughs or has the nerve to judge, you just ground down and rise up even more. They are just missing out on how good it can feel to see and know your own magic and beauty. And yes. If you want, and it feels good, you should share it. Because we want to see you and celebrate you too.

To every corner of the planet, to the young and old, to all humanity. I see your beauty. I really do.

Today, I saw an owl with broken eyes. A blind owl with eyes that look like a dark night filled with bright stars. I used to think that no one could really love a person so broken in so many places. But the broken owl has two eyes filled with a starry universe, and that's when I realised, that you can be loved for your brokenness. Not just despite it. It only takes someone who knows what a starry universe would feel like. Broken is beautiful, too. And sometimes even more beautiful.

Today, young girls measure the quality of their beauty based upon its entertainment value. The more people are entertained by their beauty, the more beautiful they think they must be. This is very unfortunate and I would like young girls to know that their beauty is a crown; not a clown. And crowns are best worn with elegance and serenity.

To every soul you encounter, be a mirror, which reflects only their beauty.

To feel everything, yet nothing at all. That is the utmost beautiful feeling.

To Her Steady Lover - Poem by Jibanananda Das There is no meaning in living—I don't say this. There is meaning for some, may be for all—may be a perfect meaning. Yet I hear the white sound of wind-driven birds In the water of the distant seas beneath the burning summer sun. The candle burns slowly, very slowly, on my table; The books of intellect are more still—unwavering— lost in meditation; Yet when you go out on to the streets or even while sitting by the window side Will you sense the frenzied dance of violent waters; Right beside that a book of your cheeks; no more like a lantern, Perhaps like a conch-shell lying on the beach as if ocean's father It is also a music by his own merit—like Nature: caustic—lovable—finally like the most favourite entity. So I get the taste of expansive wind in the airing of maddening grievances; Otherwise in the mind's forest the python coils up around the doe: I feel the pitiable hint of a life like that in the Sceptre of protest. Some glacier-cold still flock of Cormorants will realize my words; When the electric-compass of life will cease They will eat up snow-grey sleep like polar seas in endless grasp.

To Jiyun, beauty was another kind of talent. She believed that as a woman, if you didn't have beauty, you didn't have anything at all. Jiyun had often said that she wanted to be a woman who was envied and resented by people. But no matter how good her grades were or how good she was at drawing, the other kids didn't regard her with envy. She had to be good at such things for her not to be so pathetic and for her life to have meaning, they said, because she didn't have good looks, and she would have been the most obnoxious and hateful person in the world if she had been pretty on top of being smart.

To live in that Solitary world,is like the more you have lived for poetic Beauty.

To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.