Fairer Quotes
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Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call reality? -- not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is fairer still...All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem when I turn to the glass...There must be a truth involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning.
George MacDonald
...the people who find fault with society are too apt to regard it as an end and not a means, just as the people who despise money speak as if its only use were to be kept in bags and gloated over? Isn't it fairer to look at them both as opportunities, which may be used either stupidly or intelligently, according to the capacity of the user?
Edith Wharton
Tell me Was Venus more beautiful Than you are When she topped The crinkled waves Drifting shoreward On her plaited shell Was Botticelli’s vision Fairer than mine And were the painted rosebuds He tossed his lady Of better worth Than the words I blow about you To cover your too great loveliness As with a gauze Of misted silver For me You stand poised In the blue and buoyant air Cinctured by bright winds Treading the sunlight. And the waves which precede you Ripple and stir The sands...
Amy Lowell
Then, owyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely, and so sorrowful. It may be that only a few days are left ere darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadily; but it would ease my heart, if while the Sun yet shines, I could see you still. For you and I have both passed under the wings of the Shadow,...
J. R. R. Tolkien
Sonnet 54 O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give The rose looks fair but fairer we it deem for that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye as the perfumed tinture of the roses hang on such thorns and play as wantonly when summer's breath their masked buds discloses: But for their virtue only is their show they live unwoo'd and unrespected fade die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so of their sweet deaths...
William Shakespeare
