#beauty

The accouterments of life were so rich and varied, so elaborated, that almost no place at all was left for life itself. Each and every accessory was so costly and beautiful that it had an existence above and beyond the purpose it was meant to serve – confusing the observer and absorbing attention. ↗

— Thomas Mann

#things #beauty

If you die, I'll die.' 'But is you live, I'll live.' - Bowman and Kestrel, Firesong ↗

— William Nicholson

#beauty

The oyster was an animal worthy of New Orleans, as mysterious and private and beautiful as the city itself. If one could accept that oysters build their houses out of their lives, one could imagine the same of New Orleans, whose houses were similarly and resolutely shuttered against an outside world that could never be trusted to show proper sensitivity toward the oozing delicacies within. ↗

— Tom Robbins

#new-orleans #oysters #shutters #beauty

]sing to us the one with violets in her lap ]mostly ]goes astray ↗

— Sappho

#imagery #poetry #beauty

Going out of style isn't a natural process, but a manipulated change which destroys the beauty of last year's dress in order to make it worthless. ↗

— B.F. Skinner

#beauty

The real meaning of things lies deep down and the real meaning of things is always beautiful because it is simply love. ↗

— Mary Balogh

#meaning #simply #beauty

Beauty without grace is like a fish far displaced from the water and looking at this kind of beauty is like watching that fish die right there on the cement in front of you. ↗

— C. JoyBell C.

#fish #grace #gracious #true-beauty #beauty

You are stronger than me," Asa says. "And in bravery and strength, there is a kind of beauty. ↗

— Matthew J. Kirby

#beauty

Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn New York. Especially in the summer of 1912. Somber as a word was better. But it did not apply to Williamsburg Brooklyn. Prairie was lovely and Shenandoah had a beautiful sound but you couldn't fit those words into Brooklyn. Serene was the only word for it especially on a Saturday afternoon in summer. ↗

— Betty Smith

#opening-lines #beauty

You can never stay angry too long in the bush though. At least, that's what I think. It's not that it's soothing or restful, because it's not. What it does for me is get inside my body, inside my blood, and take me over. I don't know that I can describe it any better than that. It takes me over and I become part of it and it becomes part of me and I'm not very important, or at least no more important than a tree or a rock or a spider abseiling down a long thread of cobweb. As I wandered around, on that hot afternoon, I didn't notice anything too amazing or beautiful or mindbogglingly spectacular. I can't actually remember noticing anything out of the ordinary: just the grey-green rocks and the olive-green leaves and the reddish soil with its teeming ants. The tattered ribbons of paperbark, the crackly dry cicada shell, the smooth furrow left in the dust by a passing snake. That's all there ever is really, most of the time. No rainforest with tropical butterflies, no palm trees or Californian redwoods, no leopards or iguanas or panda bears. Just the bush. ↗

— John Marsden

#nature #simplicity #wild #beauty