Beautiful Quotes
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I consider myself very fortunate. I have a beautiful wife who supports my work and is raising our daughter when I'm out on the road.
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Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! Here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name.
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Lay your sleeping head, my love Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave Proves the child ephemeral; But in my arms till break of day Let the living creature lie: Mortal, guilty, but to me The entirely beautiful.
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Not everything that’s beautiful is weak.
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Everything is not beautiful at the ballet. It's tough.
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If you're lucky enough to fall in love, that's one thing. Otherwise all that was ever truly beautiful to me was boyhood. It's the meal we sup on for the rest of our lives. Love puts the icing on life. But if you don't find it...you must call on your childhood memories over and over till you do.
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Romeo and Juliet were stunning and beautiful, but a lot of the other characters surrounding them were caricatures.
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There is in the blind as in the seeing an Absolute which gives truth to what we know to be true, order to what is orderly, beauty to the beautiful, touchableness to what is tangible.
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I never understood when people go, 'Oh my gosh, it's so easy being pregnant.' No, it's hard. It's the most beautiful thing, yes, but it's hard.
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What's beautiful about the actual acting class environment is that you can use it to push through everything: push your voice, push your inhibitions, push your fears, push your confidence, push your vulnerability, push your silences.
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The very best hotel I've stayed in is the Intercontinental on Park Lane. We went there for the Chelsea Flower Show a few years ago, and it was sheer luxury. Everybody had a smile on their face. I came home and changed all my pillows because the hotel ones were so beautiful.
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I really enjoyed shooting in Ireland. The people are so lovely. I hope I don't offend anyone in saying this, but the nature reminded me of Americans: everyone was warm and open and easy to talk to. And Ireland is so beautiful and lusciously green.
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Barbara Eden is the most beautiful girl in the world.
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West Yorkshire is quite dramatic and beautiful, the crags and things.
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I do recall one moment when I went to India by myself. I was paralyzed with fear to travel alone, but I had this intuitive hint that I had to do it. It was transformative and beautiful.
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I hope I'm not a tourist attraction - I'm sure that they come here really because St. Andrews is just amazing, a beautiful place.
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When the Artist rises high enough to achieve the Beautiful, the symbol by which he makes it perceptible to mortal senses becomes of little value in his eyes, while his spirit possesses itself in the enjoyment of the reality.
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I play golf for a living. I'm grateful for that. It's a beautiful game, provides a great opportunity.
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I do not have one theme for each season, I just try to make beautiful clothes all year round.
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Eve hugged her, hard. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “What happened to the old frosting?” Shane, sitting at the table, raised his hand. “Took one for the team.” “Jesus, you ate it? All of it?” “Nah.” He held up the bowl that was sitting in front of him. There was still about half a cup left. “Couldn’t finish it all.” Eve blinked and looked at Claire, who shrugged and said, “I always thought he was sweet.
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An example I often use to illustrate the reality of vanity, is this: look at the peacock; it's beautiful if you look at it from the front. But if you look at it from behind, you discover the truth... Whoever gives in to such self-absorbed vanity has huge misery hiding inside them.
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I definitely want to show how beautiful the marathon can be. I am the opponent of all those who find the marathon bad: the psychologists, the physiologists, the doubters. I make the marathon beautiful for myself and for others. That's why I'm here.
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Cynie Cory roams the outer reaches of the heart’s territory, from the snowy winter of family life to the tropical jungles of love. She wears her heart on her sleeve and it is as big as the country she writes about. Is she the quintessential American girl? You bet she is, part Annie Oakley, part Emily Dickinson – harpshooting poet of wild nights. She zooms in on the detritus of love – the broken fragments, the fallen leaves – and puts together a collage that is as heartbreaking as it is beautiful. Watch out – she’s driving down your street.
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A subject that is beautiful in itself gives no suggestion to the artist. It lacks imperfection.
