Quotes about Beauty

They may be misplaced, forgotten, or misdirected, but in the heart of every man is a desperate desire for a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to love.

Receive it for the gift it is! Pause, and let the beauty minister to you. I receive this into my soul. Too often we just notice and go on, like a pedestrian who steps over a hundred-dollar bill lying on the sidewalk. Stop and pick it up! In these moments you open yourself and receive the beauty, the gift, the grace—receive it into your being. Let it bring to you God's love, his tenderness, his rich goodness.

That glory was shared with us; we became, in G. K. Chesterton's words, "a statue of God walking about the garden," endowed with a strength and beauty all our own. All that we ever wished we could be, we were—and more. We were fully alive.

Beautiful things, as Matisse shows, always carry greetings from other worlds within them.

He didn't make Adam from polyester, but from the dust of the earth, and he didn't set him down at the mall, but in the outdoors, in nature. The created world, with all its beauty and diversity and wildness, this is the world God intended for us to live in relationship to.

It is beautiful in a picture to wash the disciples' feet; but the sands of the real desert have no lustre in them to compensate for the servile nature of the occupation.

Certainly a liberal education does manifest itself in a courtesy, propriety, and polish of word and action, which is beautiful in itself, and acceptable to others; but it does much more.

If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.

Softly the breezes from the forest came, Softly they blew aside the taper's flame; Clear was the song from Philomel's far bower; Grateful the incense from the lime-tree flower; Mysterious, wild, the far-heard trumpet's tone; Lovely the moon in ether, all alone: Sweet too, the converse of these happy mortals, As that of busy spirits when the portals Are closing in the west; or that soft humming We hear around when Hesperus is coming. Sweet be their sleep.

I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

She dwells with Beauty--Beauty that must die: And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding Adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee mouths sips:

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death.