All Quotes By Tag: Beauty

“When jealousy surges through thy heartLet not thy foolish tongue take part.With my two arms, I do not aspire to touch the sky.So, like a child after its mother, I flutter.Now lust shakes my soul,A wind on the mountain overwhelming the oaks.I know not what to do: I have two minds.Face me, my dear one and unveil the grace in your eyes.And a sweet expression spreads over her fair face.I love refinement and for meLove has the splendor and beauty of the morning star.I yearn and I seek.To you, fair maidens, my mind does not change.”

“I had never seen a more flawless specimen than this wild looking siren.”

“In a land that knew only dark beauty, she was something of a hybrid no one dared touch. But the tall Arab did not appear in the least daunted by her abnormality. No, she saw his eyes. He was not daunted in the least.”

“beneath the pain of your fears, wild and ready, lives your truth, the essence of your singular beauty, hoping, waiting for you to set it free.”

“Inner beauty, warm-heartedness and compassion, is what brings about peace of mind.”

“Beauty is one of the strangest things. It never comes without the pain. But it always comes…eventually.”

“There is beautiful you are.””No,” said Marged, between a sigh and a sob.”Yes,” said Owen.”No,” said Marged, not so certain.”Behold,” Owen said, from Solomon. “thou art fair. Thou hast dove’s eyes.””Dove’s eyes are small.” Marged said.”Yours are so big they are my whole world,” said Owen.”

“The world needs more beautiful things.”

“The Earth must have done some noble work; that is why you were born here and not in the ocean among the fishes and not in the sky among the birds.”

“I wonder if you know how special you are; I wonder if you know how precious you are; I wonder if you know how lucky I am to have you in my life; I love you so much.”

“I am sure that God has given all his time in making you, the remaining human race has been created in haste.”

“Who knew such belongings?That the truest loveCould blendThe margins of lifeInto forgotten wants.”

“A hint of sensual frustration roughened his voice.“And I will curse the gods along with them, Min. Some wild monsoon raged through me as I looked at you just now. It’s left me rearranged inside, and I don’t have a map.”

“It was language I loved, not meaning. I liked poetry better when I wasn’t sure what it meant. Eliot has said that the meaning of the poem is provided to keep the mind busy while the poem gets on with its work — like the bone thrown to the dog by the robber so he can get on with his work. . . . Is beauty a reminder of something we once knew, with poetry one of its vehicles? Does it give us a brief vision of that ‘rarely glimpsed bright face behind/ the apparency of things’? Here, I suppose, we ought to try the impossible task of defining poetry. No one definition will do. But I must admit to a liking for the words of Thomas Fuller, who said: ‘Poetry is a dangerous honey. I advise thee only to taste it with the Tip of thy finger and not to live upon it. If thou do’st, it will disorder thy Head and give thee dangerous Vertigos.”

“To enjoy the true beauty of life, be kind to yourself.”