Beauty Quotes (displaying: 31 - 60 of 6583 quotes )
I can explain, Ther?s no need, ?ve been keeping regular track of your activities, and, besides, your notebook has been a great help to me, may I take the opportunity to congratulate you on the excellent style and the appropriateness of the language, ?ll hand in my resignation tomorrow, I wo?t accept it.
You seem to be turning into the theme of all my pain?ing?, she said.?The meeting of two worlds. A double exposure. Showing through the outline of Tomas the libertine, incredibly, the face of a romantic lover. Or, the other way, through a Tristan, always thinking of his Tereza, I see the beautiful, betrayed world of the libertine.
Do they still call it infatuation? That magic ax that chops away the world in one blow, leaving only the couple standing there trembling? Whatever they call it, it leaps over anything, takes the biggest chair, the largest slice, rules the ground wherever it walks, from a mansion to a swamp, and its selfishness is its beauty.... People with no imagination feed it with sex -- the clown of love. They don't know the real kinds, the better kinds, where losses are cut and everybody benefits. It takes a certain intelligence to love like that -- softly, without props.
The ultimate good of the gospel is seeing and savoring the beauty and value of God. Go?s wrath and our sin obstruct that vision and that pleasure. You ca?t see and savor God as supremely satisfying while you are full of rebellion against Him and He is full of wrath against you. The removal of this wrath and this rebellion is what the gospel is for. The ultimate aim of the gospel is the display of Go?s glory and the removal of every obstacle to our seeing it and savoring it as our highest treasure.?Behold Your God? is the most gracious command and the best gift of the gospel. If we do not see Him and savor Him as our greatest fortune, we have not obeyed or believed the gospel.
Sharks have everything a scientist dreams of. They're beautiful. God, how beautiful they are! They're like an impossibly perfect piece of machinery. They're as graceful as any bird. They're as mysterious as any animal on earth. No one knows for sure how long they live or what impulsesexcept for hungerthey respond to. There are more than two hundred and fifty species of shark, and everyone is different from every other one.
One day a hummingbird flew in--It fluttered against the window til I got it down where I could reach it with an open umbrella----When I had it in my hand it was so small I couldn't believe I had it--but I could feel the intense life--so intense and so tiny--...You were like the humming bird to me...And I am rather inclined to feel that you and I know the best part of one another without spending much time together----It is not that I fear the knowing--It is that I am at this moment willing to let you be what you are to me--it is beautiful and pure and very intensely alive.
His mouth started to speak, but his brain decided it hadn't got anything to say yet and shut it again. His brain then started to contend with the problem of what his eyes told it they were looking at, but in doing so relinquished control of the mouth which promptly fell open again. Once more gathering up the jaw, his brain lost control of his left hand which then wandered around in an aimless fashion. For a second or so the brain tried to catch the left hand without letting go of the mouth and simultaneously tried to think about what was buried in the ice, which is probably why the legs went and Arthur dropped restfully to the ground.
It's easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can't fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is your strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence--such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow’d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair’d the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent.
I want to fulfill myself in one of the rarest of destinies. I have only a dim notion of what it will be. I want it to have not a graceful curve slightly bent toward evening but a hitherto unseen beauty lovely because of the danger which works away at it overwhelms it undermines it. Oh let me be only utter beauty I shall go quickly or slowly but I shall dare what must be dared. I shall destroy appearances the casings will burn away and one evening I shall appear there in the palm of your hand quiet and pure like a glass statuette. You will see me. Round about me there will be nothing left.
Of course you always had that detached quality as if you were playing a game without much concern over whether you won or lost, and now that you've lost the game, not lost but just quit playing, you have that rare sort of charm that usually only happens in very old or hopelessly sick people, the charm of the defeated.
My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mothe?s body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Pri?s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.