Best 11119 quotes in «beautiful quotes» category

This is a beautiful life, waiting to be lived, waiting to be experienced. Your memories are waiting for you to get up and make them. Make memories of your time now.

This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. For as there are billions of different stars that make up the sky so, too, are there billions of different humans that make up the Earth. Some shine brighter but all are made of the same cosmic dust. O the joy of being in life with all these people! I speak of differences because they are there. Like the different organs that make up our bodies. Earth, itself, is one large body. Listen to how it howls when one human is in misery. When one kills another, the Earth feels the pang in its chest. When one orgasms, the Earth craves a cigarette. Look carefully, these animals are beauty spots that make the Earth’s face lovelier and more loveable. These oceans are the Earth’s limpid eyes. These trees, its hair. This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. I will no longer speak of differences, for the similarities are larger. Look even closer. There may be distances between our limbs but there are no spaces between our hearts. We long to be one. We long to be in nature and to run wild with its wildlife. Let us celebrate life and living, for it is sacrilegious to be ungrateful. Let us play and be playful, for it is sacrilegious to be serious. Let us celebrate imperfections and make existence proud of us, for tomorrow is death, and this is an ode to life. The anthem of the world.

This is a special date but that was a special time

This is a beautiful morning; the sun is rising with a smiling face. Everything around me is alive and smiling. Everything is whispering in my ear to enjoy every moment and enjoy the morning. My heart is dancing with you, with morning light.

This is my story. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I'm going somewhere beautiful, and I know I'm on my way... It's been a beautiful adventure. It always will be.

This is God's beauty! The Elegant nature of Esther, The Meek nature of Moses, The Pius nature of Paul, The Passionate nature of Peter, The Just nature of Jesus and then The wise nature of you!

This is the most beautiful piece of advice I can offer. I you don't have what you want now, you don't have what you want.

This is the sacred secret of love. Love a person for their heart and only their heart, and you will be rewarded with the best unconditional love in return. If you ignore the heart and focus just on a person’s outer beauty, love will ignore you. Love a person for only the beauty found in their heart, and that beautiful heart will always be beautiful to you.

This is where the whole thing entered into a vicious cycle, for her proximity always inebriated the hearts, thus only deepening their desire to remain hostages in the cages so that they could booze even more on that beauty.

This little girl's grown up by now," she said. Almost. Not quite. I wish you all a long and happy life.

This moment is the most important and beautiful moment of your life. Live it, love it, and enjoy it!

This twisted cat and mouse game always starts the same First we're both down to play and somehow you go astray

This womens skin is shimmering and pale, her long black hair is tied with dozens of silver ribbons that fall over her shoulders. Her gown is white, covered in what to Bailey looks like looping black embroidery, but as he walks closer he sees that the black marks are actually words written across the fabric. When he is near enough to read parts of the gown, he realizes that they are love letters, inscribed in handwritten text. Words of desire and longing wrapping around her waist, flowing down the train of her gown as it spills over the platform. The statue herself is still, but her hand is held out and only then does Bailey notice the young woman with a red scarf standing in front of her, offering the love letter-clad statue a sungle crimson rose. The movement is so subtle that it is almost undetectable, but slowly, very, very slowly, the statue reaches to accept the rose. Her fingers open, and the young woman with the rose waits patiently as the statue gradually closes her hand around the stem, releasing it only when it is secure. ....The statue is lifting the rose, gradually, to her face. Her eye lids slowly close.

This world can be quite wonderful once you let yourself be a part of it.

This world is too fast and the people are so busy they may never get the time to stop and admire you when they pass you by; and I'm afraid this will slowly make you forget how very beautiful you are. Never forget that, love. You're an angel. The most beautiful of all angels.

This was why I hated beautiful people. They build you up and then they destroy you. And we let 'em.

Those beautiful, green-blue eyes that change colour like they're bewitched, and look deep into my soul, making me see my true self. Right now, I don't like what I see.” -Nik Driver

Thomas make it easy to cave to temptation with his golden - blond hair, muscle from head to toe and sexy brooding expression a few girls have written about in poems.

Those things that take my breath away become the ocean-complex and deep-and I'm prone to drowning in beautiful things. Like you.

Those who are truly beautiful go out of their way to make life beautiful for others.

Those who were afraid of the dark and always refused to throw themselves inside it. Never got to see and feel how beautiful it is, to meet and greet one's own demons.

Though it’s reasons to burn may vary... you are always the fuel of my fire.

Though I never really had you…. … to me you will always be the one that got away.

Thoughtfully, he murmured, “What is it about you?” The answer to this seemed obvious: “I eat a lot of cheese.” Jensen ignored this. “You’re silly, and beautiful, and . . .” “A little daft?” He shook his head, all sincerity. “You’re just unexpected.

Though these words will never find you, I hope that you knew I was thinking of you today….. and that I was wishing you every happiness. Love Always, The girl you loved once.

Through my seeking of what is beyond beautiful, of what is intriguing, of what is free from all imperfections and wrongs, I realise my soul is not from here. I belong to a different place, from a different world, a different existence.

Throughout it all, you are still, always, you: beautiful and bruised, known and unknowable. And isn't that - just you - enough?

Thus I am in Holland, the kingdom of things, great principality of objects. In Dutch, schoen means beautiful and at the same time clean, as if neatness was raised to the dignity of a virtue.

Time flies with you

Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not.

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.

To be original is not creating your own idea; it's the essence of the idea in the reader's mind.

To everyone who kept staring at the horizon, it always seemed like the earth and sky met and kissed each other, the very thought of that seemed to make every single thing in the universe beautiful. But only the sky and earth knew the distance between them, only they knew the fact that they could never be together.

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

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.

To find the joy of living, I look at the beautiful side of life.

Today I wondered why my eyelashes aren't thick enough and why my feet aren't small enough. Then it hit me. Why do we take these insignificant things like millimeters on lashes and shoeboxes and then try to fit ourselves into those stupid molds? Why do I take the beauty that is me, and measure it up to a shoe size? A length of hair on my eyes? Am I not the more wonderful creation, far more great than those stupid things? Why do we take ourselves and desecrate ourselves daily? Pushing ourselves into cubicles because we think we are supposed to fit into them? Are we ice cubes? And suddenly I just don't understand the inadequacies anymore! Because they're not even inadequacies, at all! I will laugh and be beautiful.

Today is a beautiful day. I AM deeply grateful for everything in my life. ALL is welcome here!

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

To look beautiful and innocent all the time, keep your heart beautiful and innocent all the time!

To me, he is art, poetry for the eyes and heart. He is the most terrifyingly beautiful guy I have ever seen. And his scars have to tell a story...

Tony and Peg have two kids, Terry-Lynn and Harvey, both of whom are enrolled in so many extracurricular and afterschool clubs that they hardly ever see their parents. If Terry-Lynn is in Girl Guides, she doesn’t have to see Peg inviting the Purolator man in for “a cup of coffee”. If Harvey is in the anime drawing club, he doesn’t have to see Peg kissing Mr. Cooper from across the street, even if all the other neighbours secretly know what’s going on. Tony has no idea, all he knows is that Peg isn’t the same Peg he married back in 2003. All he knows is that she’s changed a great deal, and not for the better, like a beautiful butterfly regressing back into a devouring, ugly caterpillar in the span of only a couple of months.

Took long enough,” she called out, not wanting to admit how the sight of him made her throat hitch, how the man was so gorgeous she lost her mind. “I thought you drowned in the mirror from staring into your reflection too long.

Tonight shall be the very beginning.' 'Was it?' 'It shall be. For me.' 'My beginning was the albatrosses.' 'That is a good beginning; I am glad it is yours. Tonight shall be mine.' 'Ought we to have different ones?' 'Different beginnings? I think we must.' 'Will there be more of them?' 'A great many more. Are your eyes closed?' 'Yes. Are yours?' 'Yes. Though it's so dark it hardly makes a difference.' 'I feel—more than myself.' 'I feel—as though a new chamber of my heart has opened.' 'Listen.' 'What is it?' 'The rain.

To think what is true, to sense what is beautiful and to want what is good, hereby the spirit finds purpose of a life in reason.

To think I actually talked to the boy who nearly got you killed," Ivy mutters, shuddering with disgust. "I'm so sorry I did." "It's okay. You didn't know," I reassure her as we take a seat on some pool chairs. "But you told me before what his appearance was. I should have recognized him!" "It's fine, Ivy. Even if you did your best to avoid him, he would've found way to hit on you eventually." Ivy wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar language. " 'Hit on'? What does that mean?" "Flirting. Or, for Dunstan, more like a procedure. He's been hitting on any pretty girl he sees ever since he and Melanie broke up. I don't know if he's doing this to make her jealous or what, but it's really annoying." I look back up to see Ivy go rigid. For some reason she looks classically surprised; her hand is over her mouth, and the rosy blush is back with a vengeance, "Ivy? You okay?" Ivy removes her hand, muttering something so quietly I can't hear it. "Sorry?" "You called me pretty." The moment those words are said, Ivy stares down at her feet as her face gets brighter. "Well, yeah," I murmur, my face hot. "You really are beautiful tonight, Ivy.

To show you all my scars, is not to tell you that this Dunya would always leave you wounded, and bruised, and on knees, but to show you that see, healing is always possible. Healing is easy. Healing is beautiful.

To the one in the skies, this city must look like a scintillating pattern of speckled glows in all directions, like a firecracker going off amid thick darkness. Right now the urban pattern glowing here is in hues of orange, ginger, and ochre. It is a configuration of sparkles, each dot a light lit by someone awake at this hour. From where the Celestial Gaze is situated, from that high above, all these sporadically lit bulbs must seem in perfect harmony, constantly flickering, as if coding a cryptic message to God.

True beauty is a warm heart, a kind soul, and an attentive ear.

True beauty express itself automatically. It's not only visible in the material, but around one's being, and within their aura. I once met a female, who was like that of a jeweled flower. Her celestial atmosphere and genuine conception could not separate from the true expression of the definition of beauty.