#poe

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall. ↗

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

#poetry #beauty

While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#beauty #dejan-stojanovic #gazing #literature #literature-quotes

..bear in mind that, in general, it is the object of our newspapers rather to create a sensation-to make a point-than to further the cause of truth." Dupin in "The Mystery of Marie Roget ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#the-beautiful-cigar-girl #beauty

There is no beauty without some strangeness. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#beauty

When I call his name, it’s a sound almost entirely out of my control. It soars over the crowd and hits him. Even from where I’m standing, I can tell that he recognized my voice. Hastily he unwinds himself from the girl, stands to attention like an animal sensing danger. And I try to call him again, but that word, that name, was all I had the energy for. I barely have the strength left to stand. I wait helplessly for him to find the sound, and when he does, when his heterochromatic eyes meet mine, my mouth forms the word again, but just barely. The girl at his side disappears. The crowd blurs into senseless shapes and colors. I can’t feel my heart or my body or the heat of the flames. I can only see his face—his bewildered, beautifully familiar face. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#reunion #beauty

]Sardis often turning her thoughts here ] you like a goddess and in your song most of all she rejoiced. But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women as sometimes at sunset the rosyfingered moon surpasses all the stars. And her light stretches over salt sea equally and flowerdeep fields. And the beautiful dew is poured out and roses bloom and frail chervil and flowering sweetclover. But she goes back and forth remembering gentle Atthis and in longing she bites her tender mind ↗

— Sappho

#imagery #poetry #beauty

A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it. A poet utterly clear is a trifle glaring. ↗

— E.B. White

#poet #poetry #beauty

Le serpent qui danse Que j'aime voir, chère indolente, De ton corps si beau, Comme une étoffe vacillante, Miroiter la peau! Sur ta chevelure profonde Aux acres parfums, Mer odorante et vagabonde Aux flots bleus et bruns, Comme un navire qui s'éveille Au vent du matin, Mon âme rêveuse appareille Pour un ciel lointain. Tes yeux où rien ne se révèle De doux ni d'amer, Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêlent L’or avec le fer. A te voir marcher en cadence, Belle d'abandon, On dirait un serpent qui danse Au bout d'un bâton. Sous le fardeau de ta paresse Ta tête d'enfant Se balance avec la mollesse D’un jeune éléphant, Et ton corps se penche et s'allonge Comme un fin vaisseau Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge Ses vergues dans l'eau. Comme un flot grossi par la fonte Des glaciers grondants, Quand l'eau de ta bouche remonte Au bord de tes dents, Je crois boire un vin de bohême, Amer et vainqueur, Un ciel liquide qui parsème D’étoiles mon coeur! ↗

— Charles Baudelaire

#poems #snakes #beauty

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

— Sappho

#imagery #poetry #beauty

Poetry is not efficient. If you want to learn how to cook a lobster, it’s probably best not to look to poetry. But if you want to see the word lobster in all its reactant oddity, its pied beauty, as if for the first time, go to poetry. And if you want to know what it’s like to be that lobster in the pot, that’s in poetry too. ↗

— Dean Young

#art