Quotes About Beauty In Literature

Quotes tagged as "beauty-in-literature" (showing 1-30 of 31)
Amit Ray
“Life is not always perfect. Like a road, it has many bends, ups and down, but that’s its beauty.”
Amit Ray, World Peace: The Voice of a Mountain Bird

Douglas Adams
“Beauty doesn't have to be about anything. What's a vase about? What's a sunset or a flower about? What, for that matter, is Mozart's Twenty-third Piano Concerto about?”
Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt

Sylvia Plath
“I woke to the sound of rain.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

John Updike
“But it is just two lovers, holding hands and in a hurry to reach their car, their locked hands a starfish leaping through the dark.”
John Updike, Rabbit, Run

Roman Payne
“What a face this girl possessed!—could I not gaze at it every day I would need to recreate it through painting, sculpture, or fatherhood until a second such face is born.”
Roman Payne, The Wanderess

William Shakespeare
“The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.”
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Frederick Douglass
“Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It was heard in every sound and seen in every thing. It was very present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and felt nothing without feeling it. It looked from every star, it smiled in every calm, breathed in every wind, and moved in every storm.”
Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

Roman Payne
“My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight.
Her hands asleep beside her.
Her hair draped on the lawn
like a mantle of cloth.
I give her my life
for our love is whole
I sing her beauty
in my soul.”
Roman Payne

Jennifer Freitag
“Creation groans, awaiting the revelation of the sons of God. It remembers, I think, in dreams, the wonders of the sinless, perfect world. You can hear it in the wild tinkle of the wind through the beech leaves, the splashing of water through cold, crystal streams, the beauty of a hind poised against the sky on a hilltop, and al through heartbreaking, beautiful things that surround us each day. They are memories, dear Indi, memories of long-lost days when God walked with man and all was well [...]
But all these beauties we see are but dreams in the night, whispers of a hope to come beyond the end of this Age, that wonderful Other Thing. [...] God will not settle for imperfection, but He works His own ways in His own time. That is what we are living for, that is what stirs our sweet dreams each night, both us and the world, and that is what keeps us going through the dark: knowing that a morning is coming. And while we love the beauty of our world, we must remember that it is only a type, a shadow thing, very faintly resembling what is to come.”
Jennifer Freitag, The Shadow Things

Roman Payne
“The disappearance of the presence of beauty is the most despairing of events on this time-wheel of ours that rolls onward towards death.”
Roman Payne, The Wanderess

Chris Campanioni
“To own beauty is the first lie of it.”
Chris Campanioni, In Conversation

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“Sweetest being, don't misunderstand me!
Who dares name the nameless?
Or who dares to confess:
‘I believe in him’?
Yet who, in feeling,
Says: ‘I don’t believe’?
The all-clasping,
The all-upholding,
Does it not clasp, uphold
You: me, itself?
Don’t the heavens arch above us?
Doesn’t earth lie here under our feet?
And don’t the eternal stars, rising,
Look down on us in friendship?
Are not my eyes reflected in yours?
And don’t all things press
On your head and heart,
And weave, in eternal mystery,
Visibly: invisibly, around you?
Fill your heart from it: it is so vast,
And when you are blessed by the deepest feeling,
Call it then what you wish,
Joy! Heart! Love! God!
I have no name       
For it! Feeling is all:
Names are sound and smoke,
Veiling Heaven’s bright glow.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Parts One and Two: Pts. 1 & 2

Radhika Mukherjee
“It was like dawn, and then dusk cascading over the Himalayas. First, the gradual brightening over snow and contour, then the shining, sparkling sun mirrored; and then as the moment of joy passed – the lingering colour-changing light; reluctant to leave. That faint, bittersweet almost-light, and then indigo outlines and inky black.”
Radhika Mukherjee, Our Particular Shadows

Esther M. Friesner
“White as ash, her face, but ashes hold the phantoms of fires.”
Esther M. Friesner

Junot Díaz
“I watched commercial ave. slide past and there in the distance were the lights of route 18. that was one of those moments that would always be Rutgers for me.”
Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

Zan Perrion
“Beauty needs a witness.”
Zan Perrion, The Alabaster Girl

Radhika Mukherjee
“Did you know, that one night; one moonless, clear, shining night; with the shadowy silhouettes of trees crisp against the star-filled sky – I, on the high, level terrace of my flat, stretched out my hand! Against all odds and possibilities of unbelief and grief – a life of searchings, discontent, and a nagging sense of unreality… A spider-web intuition of a spread-out, intricate illusion that wilfully withheld the truth from me.”
Radhika Mukherjee, Our Particular Shadows

Gary Inbinder
“She wore a loose-fitting purple velvet Pre-Raphaelite gown, and her abundant dark-brown hair flowed down her back and shoulders to her waist. As she drew near, I noticed her warm brown eyes peeping at me beneath lush, un-plucked brows, her smiling red lips and smooth, un-powdered cheeks almost begging for kisses. She possessed a beauty much different from Daisy, more like a wildflower in the unspoiled earth than a prize-winning rose in a formal garden. However, her Pre-Raphaelite fashion might have been an affectation of a different kind, a bit closer to nature but a stylish imitation just the same.”
Gary Inbinder, The Flower to the Painter

“Christmas is the marriage of chaos and design. The real sound of life, for once, can burst out because a formal place has been set for it. At the moment when things have gotten sufficiently loose, the secret selves that these familiar persons hold inside them shake the room...An undercurrent of clowning and jostling is part of the process by which we succeed finally in making our necessary noise: despite the difficulty of getting the words right, of getting the singers on the same page, of keeping the ritual from falling apart into the anarchy of separate impulses. From such clatter--extended and punctuated by whatever instrument is handy, a triangle a tambourine, a Chinese gone--beauty is born.”
Geoffrey O'Brien, Sonata for Jukebox: An Autobiography of My Ears

Laney Smith
“You know what?” he whispered, out of breath, “You’re about to be in a whole lot of trouble. We probably better go.”
Laney Smith, Lock Creek: One Year's Time

Jiddu Krishnamurti
“As one sat in the aeroplane amidst all the noise, smoking and loud talking, most unexpectedly, the sense of immensity and that extraordinary benediction which was felt at il L., that imminent feeling of sacredness, began to take place. The body was nervously tense because of the crowd, noise, etc. but in spite of all this, it was there. The pressure and the strain were intense and there was acute pain at the back of the head. There was only this state and there was no observer. The whole body was wholly in it and the feeling of sacredness was so intense that a groan escaped from the body and passengers were sitting in the next seats. It went on for several hours, late into the night. It was as though one was looking, not with eyes only but with a thousand centuries; it was altogether a strange occurrence. The brain was completely empty, all reaction had stopped; during all those hours, one was not aware of this emptiness but only in writing it is the thing known, but this knowledge is only descriptive and not real. That the brain could empty itself is an odd phenomenon. As the eyes were closed, the body, the brain seemed to plunge into unfathomable depths, into states of incredible sensitivity and beauty. The passenger in the next seat began to ask something and having replied, this intensity was there; there was no continuity but only being. And dawn was coming leisurely and the clear sky was filling with light - As this is being written late in the day, with sleepless fatigue, that sacredness is there. The pressure and the strain too.”
Jiddu Krishnamurti, Krishnamurtis Notebook

Lorii Myers
“Beauty is wasted on the self-absorbed.”
Lorii Myers

Colm Tóibín
“There’s an immense dramatic possibility in describing that universe. The books, for me, were an enormous relief in that sense of how they were written to allow primary emotion, elemental emotion, to matter enormously but to give the thing an extraordinary flow so you don’t notice at what point that you’re actually overwhelmed by this. There’s no showiness, at all. It’s the opposite of showiness. I think, if it was a painting, it could be very grey abstract, almost, with some lines and very, very beautiful. But you wouldn’t have a notion of where the beauty was.

(Talking about the short stories of Alistair MacLeod, who he discovered while working on The Modern Library.)”
Colm Tóibín, Modern Library

Zan Perrion
“Honesty is the greatest aphrodisiac.”
Zan Perrion

Zan Perrion
“All beautiful things must end. Otherwise they are not beautiful.”
Zan Perrion, The Alabaster Girl

Marguerite de Angeli
“Gilds the crenelated towers of the churches here and there, Intensifies the hue of flowers makes thy lovely face more fair.”
Marguerite de Angeli, Friendship And Other Poems

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