Best 11119 quotes in «beautiful quotes» category

Something goes still inside Lily, as if her heart took a breath before it continued beating.

Some songs can make you to travel a million miles inside your head

Sometimes, in a thunderstorm, a lance of white fire would spear down from heaven and split the stone heart of an ancient tree, a crack so deep it seemed to come from the core of the earth. You could feel the skin of the world tense against it. Robin's kiss felt like that.

Sometimes I still feel that there are two of me: one clean, flawless picture, the other imperfect and cracked; one boy, one girl; one voice that speaks aloud and one that whispers in my ear; one publicly known to have been troubled but be on the mend, the other who has privately lost something to do with innocence and gained something to do with knowledge and adulthood that can never be undone. I feel sometimes there are things that tear me in two directions, that there are two sets of thoughts that grow side by side. But then I realize that I am whole, whatever that means and does not mean; I am complete without the need for additions or alteration.

Sometimes stars do fall to earth. It was true. They did and then became commonplace like the rest of the dirt on the planet. His star was one of a kind. He would never allow her to be like any other. Never allow her to be common or sullied. No, her place was in the sky. With her family. With her stinking pet wolf. Never with him. "Have a nice life, princess.

Sometimes the most beautiful things are in front of our eyes, and we don’t even notice because we’re either too busy or too afraid to take a closer look.

Sometimes the most beautiful words are beautifully arrayed.

Sometimes there’s a scent in the air so beautiful, earthly, and alive that it makes me feel ravenous, like this sharp awakening moment wants to cut me open to prove how empty I am, to show how much space there is for me to fill. What will I fill it with? I could eat the dirt and all that is in it and sense it wouldn’t be enough. I am giddy. I want to fly.

Sometimes the things that make you cry are more beautiful than the things that make you laugh.

Sometimes things are most beautiful when they're coming to an end.

Sometimes, you don't wake up. But if you happen to, you know things will never be the same.

Sometimes words are just a crude translation of love.

So. Our little pearl of warmth, our spinning orrery of lives, our island, our beloved solar system, our hearth and home, tight and burnished in the warmth of the sun—and then—these starships we are making out of Nix. We will send them to the stars, they will be like dandelion seeds, floating away on a breeze. Very beautiful. We will never see them again.

So often, we don’t see the beauty in ourselves. If we keep observing our reflection in the distorted mirrors of bad relationships, we start believing we are ugly and unlovable. And the flaws aren’t in how we look, but in whose eyes we’re seeing ourselves through.

Special Logan Kiss... Yeah, but you didn't know that I'd recited how i felt for you right then, in that moment, in my mins. The words flowed silently, so easily. There's no mistaking them. When I gave you those kisses, I was telling myself and you.... He peck my nose "I..." He kisses my forehead "..LOVE.." My heart swells as He presses his lips to my chin, then he whispers " YOU...

Speaking a beautiful lie is a great art, which is often presented to us in the form of fiction.

Speaking a truth does not need any application of mind or intelligence. A computer always tells the truth, but it has no intelligence. You must have great intelligence to speak beautiful lies.

Speaking with her always felt like sitting on a seashore. Hearing the waves and feeling them crashing into my feet, While gazing the setting sun and the way he colours the whole sky. I never got tired of it.

Spend the beautiful days of your life to someone you want to spend with until your last breath.

Spring dances with joy in every flower and in every bud letting us know that changes are beautiful and an inevitable law of life.

Split in two,” he sang, “Loved by one, and then another. Pulled in a direction and then the other. If I could breathe you in, all of you, every day of my life, it wouldn’t be enough. My heart was captive long ago — then you stole it away, you helped me grow. Now I’m staring at my crossroads with a choice to make, wondering how in the world I even thought there was one way to take.” His hands flew over the piano, muscles tightened in his forearms as he leaned forward and continued singing. “My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He repeated the chorus and closed his eyes, humming the haunting melody in such a way that I felt hypnotized. “Letting her go will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do — but I’m doing it so I can say goodbye to her — and good morning to you. Tell me it’s not too late to ask for a second.” He smirked but continued singing. “Third, fourth, tenth date.” His hands slowed. “Loving you will always be easy because when I look into your eyes I know you see the real me, so be my love, be my rain, be my clouds, be my pain.” “My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He stopped playing. The room fell silent.

Standing there small among the boxes of Kandy Kakes that rose like brownish cartoon cliffs around him, he resembled the videos I'd seen of sea lions floating angelically among the kelp, black bodies filmed from below, their shapes cut out in bright sunlight, bodies mistakable for those of a human being. I felt the memory of a shadowy arm around me, a watcher again, sitting there on the couch with my boyfriend, watching the animals become prey. Somewhere there were giant whales feeding on creatures too small to see, pressing them against fronds of baleen with a tongue the size of a sedan. There were polar bears killing seals, tearing ovoid chunks from out of their smooth, round bellies. In the surrounding vastness of the warehouse, I heard something scratching against the concrete floor and knew there were rats here, scraping a thin film of nutrient from the dry packaged matter that surrounded them. Life was everywhere, inescapable, imperative.

Stare up at the stars, Don't be fearful of the night. For, it is the darkness, That lets us know the light.

Stay beautiful because the world is beautiful, So is the universe!

Such beautiful minds. Yet such silence and darkness around them.

Stop looking back when your future is ahead of you

Sunrise is the start of something beautiful: the day. Sunset is the start of something beautiful: the night.

Stella scribbled in thick black texta across half the pages of my best storybook, filled with people who ventured where their hearts took them. Beautiful worlds beyond mine.

Stop worrying about and believing in what other people think of you, do not let their opinions define who you are because all of us are amazing in our own ways.

Success' is world's most beautiful thing

Sur lui je ferai descendre la faim et le feu Jusqu'à ce qu'il connaisse L'abomination de la désolation. Et que tous les démons qui peuplent les ténèbres Comprennent enfin, avec stupeur, Que, sans répit, la vengeance Dévore le cœur de l'homme.

Sweet wine from Spain and gossip from France; the sun in the windows dimmed, sorrowed prettily as the day declined, until the candles' light was mirrored in the glass. Their dabbling flames were like guesses at a feeling, the hearth's fire like the feeling itself. It was a beautiful pastime she had missed; hours that had stepped light-footed on Emilia's memory and passed on.

Take a deep breath right now… Look at the sky; it's a beautiful night, isn't it?

Take a moment to reflect on your life. If you are not satisfied with your reflection, then make adjustments. It's never too late to live the life of your dreams. Believe in your ability to make it happen.

Tell me again about the girl whose hands have no color. Whose hands are completely white. This time make them damned, or untouched, or have her open a red umbrella or point at some maple leaves and damned near cry. Those hands. As freakish goes, I wish I had a tail. Maybe then you’d know how much I like you. It shakes me through, damn through. It shakes me. When she carries a peacock feather. When she touches her neck or thighs. You’re a person. It’s not so bad. You have hands. You are a person with hands to hold things. Things you like. Tremendous things. Tell me what you will hold today. I know there is room for everything. There is no need to be ceremonious. Tell what gets let go.

Tana would sit near the door to the basement with fingers in her ears, tears and snot running down her face as she cried and cried and cried. And little Pearl would toddle up, crying, too. They cried while they ate their cereal, cried while they watched cartoons, and cried themselves to sleep at night, huddled together in Tana's little bed. 'Make her stop' Pearl said, but Tana couldn't.

Take your million smiles through billion miles; life will never get boring for you even for a while.

Talk to yourself. Tell yourself you are beautiful. Tell yourself you are strong. See all the beauty that you have inside and speak it aloud. Let your mind see yourself in a positive light.

Tears of joy, I can handle. Tears of sadness, I can handle. Tears of sorrows, I can handle. But, tears of nature, it’s the most beautiful feel that anyone can ever get. The feel you get while walking in the rain and the smell of mud as added essence, this beautiful feel is what they call love. Then, I’m in love. I call it “Tears of Love”.

That casual glance was the beginning of a cataclysm of love that had still not ended half a century later.

That day and night, the bleeding and the screaming, had knocked something askew for Esme, like a picture swinging crooked on a wall. She loved the life she lived with her mother. It was beautiful. It was, she sometimes thought, a sweet emulation of the fairy tales they cherished in their lovely, gold-edged books. They sewed their own clothes from bolts of velvet and silk, ate all their meals as picnics, indoors or out, and danced on the rooftop, cutting passageways through the fog with their bodies. They embroidered tapestries of their own design, wove endless melodies on their violins, charted the course of the moon each month, and went to the theater and the ballet as often as they liked--every night last week to see Swan Lake again and again. Esme herself could dance like a faerie, climb trees like a squirrel, and sit so still in the park that birds would come to perch on her. Her mother had taught her all that, and for years it had been enough. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, and she had begun to catch hints and glints of another world outside her pretty little life, one filled with spice and poetry and strangers.

That reminds me of when you used to call and see us before Christmas, the year before last. Somehow–somehow life was all dark and secret and beautiful then.

That's the worst thing they do to you, to any of you. Whatever those brain lesions are all about, the worst damage is done before they even pick up the knife: You're all brainwashed into believing you're ugly.

That still did not invalidate their purity in his eyes, so long as they continued to live the way they lived: sitting on the floor, eating with their fingers, cooking and sleeping first in one room, then in another, or in the vast patio with its fountains, or on the roof, leading the existence of nomads inside the beautiful shell which was the house. If he had felt that they were capable of discarding their utter preoccupation with the present, in order to consider the time not yet arrived, he would straightway have lost interest in them and condemned them as corrupt.

The aching in my chest isn't because I miss you, it's realizing that you have become someone I no longer know, your fears, your 4 am thoughts, your achievements, are things I no longer have an equivalent to. Who we were and who we are are four different people, and the me from now doesn't relate to the me from then, let alone to the you from now. -Tanzy Sayadi and Jarod Kintz

That— we seemed to have decided without saying a word— might go a long way toward spoiling something that was special, and beautiful, by virtue of its strangeness and delicacy.

The aim is to love God because the pure heart loves loving God and because the true mind knows He deserves it. Unlike the accusations and beliefs of the critics and skeptics, it is neither an obligation of duty; nor a fear of damnation; nor a wish for power; nor a desire to appear more righteous than others; nor because God needs it; but because through all love, truth, reason, faith, honesty, and joy in and beyond oneself and the universe, He is worthy.

The amazing feeling of being alive beautifully conquers the fear of death

That was New York; a whole cacophony of sounds and tastes that all somehow came together to form something beautiful

The air is full of flying kisses sent by the people who are watching you.