Pastoral Resources

It is curious how, from time immemorial, man seems to have associated the idea of evil with beauty, shrunk from it with a sort of ghostly fear, while, at the same time drawn to it by force of its hypnotic attraction.

The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.

He was afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral.

When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator.

Talent, like beauty, to be pardoned, must be obscure and unostentatious.

You, too, women, cast away all the cowards from your embraces; they will give you only cowards for children, and you who are the daughters of the land of beauty must bear children who are noble and brave.

Beauty comes from a life well lived. If you've lived well, your smile lines are in the right places, and your frown lines aren't too bad, what more do you need?

Art requires philosophy, just as philosophy requires art. Otherwise, what would become of beauty?

Art is beauty, the perpetual invention of detail, the choice of words, the exquisite care of execution.

The way in which mathematicians and physicists and historians talk is quite different, and what a physicist means by physical intuition and what a mathematician means by beauty or elegance are things worth thinking about.

I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, in the ruthless and the cunning, a deep beauty - a sunken beauty.

The beauty one can find in art is one of the pitifully few real and lasting products of human endeavor.

Beauty is an outward gift which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused.

Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and obey only love.

Of life's two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer's hand.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

I'm not out here to win a beauty contest.

Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow's joy is possible only if today's makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one.

Old hands soil, it seems, whatever they caress, but they too have their beauty when they are joined in prayer. Young hands were made for caresses and the sheathing of love. It is a pity to make them join too soon.

There is hope and a kind of beauty in there somewhere, if you look for it.