Best 11119 quotes in «beautiful quotes» category

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    The easiest way to make life beautiful is to always believe that it is beautiful.

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    The earth's orbit didn't slow down. The world didn't stop falling. Slowly, very, very slowly, Michael started to sink to his knees.

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    The emotions flooded me, so I held him tighter. It didn’t take long for my tears to fall. They were like trails of fire sliding across my face. He kissed each one away and then brought his lips down to mine, making me taste my own emotion.

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    The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful mage alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me. That Simon Snow is alive. And I'm hopelessly in love with him.

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    The fact that neither of us made sense was the beauty of it.

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    The fact that you can't see how much you're worth makes you worth so much more." She opened her mouth once, her brow bunched, but nothing came out. She didn't know the words to ask. I continued. "A diamond doesn't know how much it's worth; it's just beautiful because it exists.

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    The female brain itself is a highly intuitive emotion-processing machine, which when put to practice in the progress of the society, would do much more than any man can with all his analytical perspectives.

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    The girl danced like light on water. After I'd watched for a while I looked with all of me, not just my eyes, and then I saw the meaning of the dance. I wanted to stop looking because it was so sad, but I couldn't because it was so beautiful.

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    The gift of sensuality is the ability to bring to the surface something (passion, desire, aliveness) that already resides within others, but for some reason is lying dormant. I feel truly blessed to have been endowed with this very gift.

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    The government

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    The grace of fulfilled dream is phenomenal.

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    The greatest danger in finding the right path often lies in here: The right path may look ugly and the wrong path may look beautiful!

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    The greatest occupation is the act of writing.

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    The houses have been condemned on Memory Lane I’m tired of this struggle that leaves everything the same I’ve tried so hard to make it work that I’m dying inside Well, you can take my past But you can’t have my tomorrow Promises that remain promises are useless and they’re cheap I wish I could put a price on words so I could make them keep I put so much faith in you I lost all my faith in me Well, you can take my past But you can’t have my tomorrow I’m giving up on giving up I can’t leave it all to prayer ‘Cause the first step in getting better is knowing what’s not there You said you’d make it better and that just makes it worse Well, you can take my past But you can’t have my tomorrow Yes, I want my life to last So you can’t have my tomorrow No, you can’t have my tomorrow

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    their concept of beauty is manufactured i am not

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    Their meal was illuminated by torches, which Gwen found were utterly without fire. What the children called torches were really just small platforms on tall, wooden poles. The reason they radiated light was because fairies had flown up to them to waltz and glow on the tiny dance floors.

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    Their eyes met, locked, became wistful, and dreamy and beautiful.

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    The love that I believe in is something that goes beyond the physical aspects of this world. The love that I believe is one that extends its energy and power through the beautiful souls that I encounter along the way, a love that can be seen in the eyes of a little dog or in the confusion of a cute lost cat who wants to be worshiped like a Goddess. This kind of love goes through a divine crafting of a person's inner self, through personal experience and thousands of years of tears and strength, that can only be seen in the familiar eyes of old souls, the eyes that recognize each other even after long times of separation, the eyes that find themselves familiar with places they have probably been to before, but that nevertheless bring great memories with every visit. This kind of love sees hope in the eyes of new-born children that know way much more than they are capable of putting into words and that bring with their innocence a smile on each person's face who'd wish they could start again. The love that I see when I look at you is a love which has roots deep inside each of us, but that needs care and light to grow and unfold its branches so that they can reach outside of ourselves and even further beyond the skies.

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    The key to your happiness, Depends on what's in focus.

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    The last time I felt alive – I was looking into your eyes. Breathing your air…. touching your skin… … Saying goodbye…. The last time I felt alive…. I was dying.

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    The little island seemed to float on the dark lake-waters. Trees grew on it, and a little hill rose in the middle of it. It was a mysterious island, lonely and beautiful. All the children stood and gazed at it, loving it and longing to go to it. It looked so secret - almost magic. “Well,” said Jack at last. “What do you think? Shall we run away, and live on the secret island?” “Yes!” whispered all the children. “Let’s!

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    The last night of retreat, after Mass, the hundreds of them sat by candlelight in the huge gymnasium. It smelled like incense and whatever hope was made out of.

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    The machine was so intricate, so complicated, that he almost got dizzy looking at it. Even in its sad state of disrepair, it was beautiful.

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    The mind becomes much more beautiful, when man could see his own weaknesses.

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    The memory of his voice made her feel warm and happy, though she could not explain why

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    The memories of beautiful moments are magical.

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    The mirror to the beautiful is beautiful. The mirror that shows the virtues of beauty becomes beautiful. Just as whatever is done to the mirror by such beauty is good and beautiful, whatever befalls life too, in respect of reality, is good.

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    The missing remained missing and the portraits couldn't change that. But when Akhmed slid the finished portrait across the desk and the family saw the shape of that beloved nose, the air would flee the room, replaced by the miracle of recognition as mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, and cousin found in that nose the son, brother, nephew, and cousin that had been, would have been, could have been, and they might race after the possibility like cartoon characters dashing off a cliff, held by the certainty of the road until they looked down -- and plummeted is the word used by the youngest brother who, at the age of sixteen, is tired of being the youngest and hopes his older brother will return for many reasons, not least so he will marry and have a child and the youngest brother will no longer be youngest; that youngest brother, the one who has nothing to say about the nose because he remembers his older brother's nose and doesn't need the nose to mean what his parents need it to mean, is the one who six months later would be disappeared in the back of a truck, as his older brother was, who would know the Landfill through his blindfold and gag by the rich scent of clay, as his older brother had known, whose fingers would be wound with the electrical wires that had welded to his older brother's bones, who would stand above a mass grave his brother had dug and would fall in it as his older brother had, though taking six more minutes and four more bullets to die, would be buried an arm's length of dirt above his brother and whose bones would find over time those of his older brother, and so, at that indeterminate point in the future, answer his mother's prayer that her boys find each other, wherever they go; that younger brother would have a smile on his face and the silliest thought in his skull a minute before the first bullet would break it, thinking of how that day six months earlier, when they all went to have his older brother's portrait made, he should have had his made, too, because now his parents would have to make another trip, and he hoped they would, hoped they would because even if he knew his older brother's nose, he hadn't been prepared to see it, and seeing that nose, there, on the page, the density of loss it engendered, the unbelievable ache of loving and not having surrounded him, strong enough to toss him, as his brother had, into the summer lake, but there was nothing but air, and he'd believed that plummet was as close as they would ever come again, and with the first gunshot one brother fell within arms' reach of the other, and with the fifth shot the blindfold dissolved and the light it blocked became forever, and on the kitchen wall of his parents' house his portrait hangs within arm's reach of his older brother's, and his mother spends whole afternoons staring at them, praying that they find each other, wherever they go.

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    The moon is beautiful only when the mind is seeking beauty and the heart is loving.

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    The more beautiful the sky, the more hopeless the neighborhood.

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    The more beauty you see, the more beautiful you become.

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    The moon was barely visible behind the pillows of clouds. Overhead, the lights caught the drizzle in a slow-motion light show.

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    The morning I drove by and saw you alone, staring at the house. I told myself to keep on driving, but something told me to stop. And when I'd seen how lost and confused you were, something told me I was meant to be there.... I was meant to be there so I could help you find your way

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    The most beautiful girl on earth is the one with a golden heart

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    The most beautiful things often stand alone.

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    The most beautiful things will break in the ugliest ways...

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    the most beautiful tide is the sweep of your heart against mine.

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    The most beautiful and painful experiences can only be felt,they cannot be expressed or explained.

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    The most beautiful jewelry in the world is not a diamond necklace, but two hearts beating as one.

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    The most beautiful thing about the most beautiful roads is that the destination is forgotten and the journey becomes the destination itself!

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    The most beautiful soul is the soul in love!

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    The most beautiful person is a person with kind heart and loving soul.

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    The most beautiful place in the world, is anyplace. Anyplace you can hold your head up. Anyplace you can be proud of who you are. But I though, where you love somebody a whole lot, and you know that person loves you, that's the most beautiful place in the world.

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    The most beautiful things have character and experience built into them.

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    The most beautiful things you can wear are your self-confidence and your self-love.

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    Then, all of a sudden, those pea-green lawns where the first scarlet poppies were flowering, those canary-yellow fields which striped the tawny hills sloping down to a sea full of azure glints, all seemed so trivial to me, so banal, so false, so much in contrast with Ayl's person, with Ayl's world, with Ayl's idea of beauty, that I realized her place could never have been out here. And I realized, with grief and fear, that I had remained out here, that I would never again be able to escape those gilded and silvered gleams, those little clouds that turned from pale blue to pink, those green leaves that yellowed every autumn, and that Ayl's perfect world was lost forever, so lost I couldn't even imagine it any more, and nothing was left that could remind me of it, even remotely, nothing except perhaps that cold wall of gray stone.

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    Then as for those who gaze upon many beautiful things but don't see the beautiful itself, and aren't even capable of following someone else who leads them to it, and upon many just things but not the just itself, and all the things like that, we'll claim that they accept the seeming of everything but discern nothing of what they have opinions about.

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    Then he pulled Liam forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was no longer than a second, but in that second, any walls between them fell. Liam's body was Syd's body; Syd's mind was Liam's mind. someones eyelashes tickled and they drew apart

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    The night was very beautiful and warm, and they were both young.

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    The next morning I told Mom I couldn't go to school again. She asked what was wrong. I told her, “The same thing that’s always wrong.” “You’re sick?” “I'm sad.” “About Dad?” “About everything.” She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. “What's everything?” I started counting on my fingers: “The meat and dairy products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry–” “Who's Larry?” “The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise it’s for food’ after he asks for money.” She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. “How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no ‘raison d’etre’, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper…” That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn't leave while I was still going. “…domesticated animals, how I have a domesticated animal, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time with them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity in school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years–” “Who said there won't be humans in fifty years?” I asked her, “Are you an optimist or a pessimist?” She looked at her watch and said, “I'm optimistic.” “Then I have some bed news for you, because humans are going to destroy each other as soon as it becomes easy enough to, which will be very soon.” “Why do beautiful songs make you sad?” “Because they aren't true.” “Never?” “Nothing is beautiful and true.