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Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart.
Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart.
A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she read more
A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears.
You can take no credit for beauty at sixteen. But if you are beautiful at sixty, it will be your read more
You can take no credit for beauty at sixteen. But if you are beautiful at sixty, it will be your soul's own doing. •Marie Carmichael Stopes Do you love me because I'm beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It read more
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Pretty is something you're born with. But beautiful, that's an equal opportunity adjective.
Pretty is something you're born with. But beautiful, that's an equal opportunity adjective.
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing read more
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess,
The might--the majesty of Loveliness?
