Beauty Of A Heart Quotes

The beauty of a face is transient, but the beauty of a heart is everlasting and magnificent. ~ Debasish Mridha

America stands before the world as an impetuous void, a fatality without substance. Nothing prepared her for hegemony; yet she tends toward it, not without a certain hesitation. Unlike the other nations which have had to pass through a whole series of humiliations and defeats, she has known till now only the sterility of an uninterrupted good fortune. If, in the future, everything should continue to go as well, her appearance on the scene will have been an accident without influence. Those who preside over her destiny, those who take her interests to heart, should prepare her for bad times; in order to cease being a superficial monster, she requires an ordeal of major scope. Perhaps she is not far from one now. Having lived, hitherto, outside hell, she is preparing to descend into it. If she seeks a destiny for herself, she will find it only on the ruins of all that was her raison d'être. ~ Emil M. Cioran

I get more gratification out of getting some obese person who had a heart attack running around and enjoying life within a year. I get more gratification from that than putting a person in the Olympic Games. The Olympic athlete probably doesn't appreciate what you've done, but the other guy does. I think it's really rewarding. ~ Arthur Lydiard

A woman whose heart is not touched by the sickness of sorrow and whose hands do not go out in relief where it is in her power to help, lacks one of the elements which make the glory of womanhood. ~ J.R. Miller

She fit her head under his chin, and he could feel her weight settle into him. He held her tight and words spilled out of him without prior composition. And this time he made no effort to clamp them off. He told her about the first time he had looked on the back of her neck as she sat in the church pew. Of the feeling that had never let go of him since. He talked to her of the great waste of years between then and now. A long time gone. And it was pointless, he said, to think how those years could have been put to better use, for he could hardly have put them to worse. There was no recovering them now. You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you are. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you. Nevertheless, over all those wasted years, he had held in his mind the wish to kiss her on the back of her neck, and now he had done it. There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred. ~ Charles Frazier

Beauty is a promise of happiness. ~ Alain De Botton

You poor dear. I can hardly endure it when my brothers are staying at the town house. They're always causing some trouble or another."
"Oh, yes, and you never cause any trouble," Oliver teased. "Never mind the shooting match where you brought three men to blows over whose rifle you should deign to use. Or the spectacle you made of yourself when you dressed as a man to enter a match. Or-"
"You can shoot a rifle, Lady Celia?" Maria leaned forward. "How did you learn? I've always wanted to myself, but Papa and my cousins refused to show me how a rifle works. Could you teach me?"
"No!" Oliver and Freddy said in unison. Then Oliver added, "Absolutely not."
Lord Gabriel leaned close. "I'd be happy to teach you, Miss Butterfield."
"Stay out of this, Gabe," Oliver growled. "Bad enough you taught Celia. Maria already has enough weapons at her disposal."
His grandmother arched one eyebrow. "Pray tell, what sort of weapons do you mean?"
Oliver paused, then gave a lazy smile. "Why, her beauty, of course. That weapon is devastating enough."
"It won't stop a scoundrel from manhandling a woman," Lady Minerva put in.
"As if you know anything about that," Lord Jarret pointed out. "Just because the heroines in your books get manhandled with nauseating regularity doesn't mean the average woman does. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

His tired gaze - from passing endless bars -
has turned into a vacant stare which nothing holds.
to him there seem to be a thousand bars,
and out beyond these bars exists no world.
his supple gait, the smoothness of strong strides
that gently turn in ever smaller circles
perform a dance of strength, centered deep within
a will, stunned, but untamed, indomitable.
but sometimes the curtains of his eyelids part,
the pupils of his eyes dilate as images
of past encounters enter while through his limbs
a tension strains in silence
only to cease to be, to die within his heart.
[the panther] ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle that's broken presently;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress;
So beauty blemished once, for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. ~ William Shakespeare

Upon my lips the breath of song,
Within my heart a rhyme,
Howe'er time trips or lags along,
I keep abreast with time! ~ Clinton Scollard

Today, take a moment to celebrate you. Your beauty. Your style. Your sense of inner mischief. The way you glow in the sunlight. Your strut in those badass boots. The way the dress hugs your soft curves. The gleam in your eye. The curve of your irrepressible smile. The line of your collarbone. The way you know, underneath all the doubts and insecurities and demons that you are, in fact, magic. And what's more? You always have been. You don't need someone else to say so. This isn't for likes or comments. You don't need to book a photoshoot for this celebration. This is between you and you. For you to take the time to see yourself. To smile at your own beauty. Find a spot where you feel the energy. Where the sun hits just so. Where the colors or textures make you feel more alive, more you. Find somewhere to prop your phone and set the timer on your camera. You don't need special equipment. And then just see what happens. Be open and curious about what wants to be seen. If someone sees you and stares or laughs or has the nerve to judge, you just ground down and rise up even more. They are just missing out on how good it can feel to see and know your own magic and beauty. And yes. If you want, and it feels good, you should share it. Because we want to see you and celebrate you too. ~ Jeanette LeBlanc

I should have known," he whispered. "I am the rain." And yet he looked dully down the mountains of his body where the hills fell to an abyss. He felt the driving rain, and heard it whipping down, pattering on the ground. He saw his hills grow dark with moisture. Then a lancing pain shot through the heart of the world. "I am the land," he said, "and I am the rain. The grass will grow out of me in a little while."
And the storm thickened, and covered the world with darkness, and with the rush of waters. ~ John Steinbeck

My feeling is that an observer needs to see four hundred and fifty stars to get that feeling of infinitude, and be swept away ... and I didn't make that number up arbitrarily, that's the number of stars that are available once you get dimmer than third magnitude. So in the city, you see a dozen stars, a handful, and it's attractive to no one. And if there's a hundred stars in the sky it still doesn't do it. There's a certain tipping point where people will look and there will be that planetarium view. And now you're touching that ancient core, whether it's collective memories or genetic memories, or something else form way back before we were even human ... astronomer Bob Berman quoted in The End of Night ~ Paul Bogard

It is not enough for the hand to touch a book and turn its pages. The pages of a book must touch the heart. ~ Jennifer Spredemann

A woman's heart should be so lost in the remembrance of Allah, that a man would have to seek him first in order to find her. ~ Khalid Yasin

It was that difficult moment when we usually part ways. Outside on the doorsteps in the light of the night as we embraced each other. She rested her lips against mine and I couldn't help but think of the first time we kissed.

Spontaneous and unsure if we were riding the same wave, I reached for her lips only to end with our laughter at the awkwardness. But despite the error of the first time, this time felt like new.Sighing in awe of the soft and gentle embrace of our lips, it turned into a tug of war.

Like a battle because we didn't want to let go of that smooth and passionate feeling. That was the final shake as the bottle was about to burst from the pressure, then it came: "I Love You", I said softly but firmly.

The words seemed to echo for an eternity back and forth between our chests.She stopped and stared at me. Just like my Drill Sergeant badge, I wore my heart on my sleeve. There was so much that she said without words.

What a genuine expression of agreement that reflected from her beautiful brown eyes, beyond the ability of any woman to fake or hide. Then she kissed me even more passionately than ever before. In my heart, I believe that it could be more, if it wasn't for….THE TABLE BETWEEN US ~ Kendricks Fields

I think of stress as the creator of cancer and heart attacks, like a tiny little ball you feed. I believe that one of the reasons I've never got ill is that I'm not stressed. ~ Simon Cowell

The Unfortunate Importance of Beauty is a farcical fictional meditation on female beauty structured as a mash-up of an old episode of Friends, a fairy tale and a murder mystery. ~ Maureen Corrigan

Story ideas had never been a problem for him, there'd always been more ideas than time to write them, he'd reject one perfectly good notion because he fell more simpatico toward a different one. But of course he could never go back to any of those ancient story stubs, they wouldn't still have juice in them.

For him, creating a novel was like gardening; you choose your seed, you treat it exactly the way the package says, and gradually a thing of beauty - or of sturdiness, or of nutrition - grows up and becomes yours. The seed you don't nurture doesn't wait to be doted over later; it shrivels and dies. ~ Donald E. Westlake

You're not going to find her on the cover of a magazine. She's more the kind you find at a museum, on a painting or in a piece of literature. Her beauty is in her soul. ~ J.M. Darhower

If we believe that this particular pain is the one that will push the baby out of the womb and into our arms, we somehow try to make a place for that pain in our heart. Pain is still there: excruciating, terrible pain. But at the moment of birth, we rarely feel betrayal or rage; we somehow feel that this is simply pain that has come with life. ~ Wayne Muller

It would be better for you to turn around and go into the thick grasses, there where one of those strange grassy islets in the riverbed will completely cover you, it would be better if you do this for once and for all, because if you come back tomorrow, or after tomorrow, there will be no one at all to understand, no one to look, not even a single one among all your natural enemies that will be able to see who you really are; it would be better for you to go away this very evening when twilight begins to fall, it would be better for you to retreat with the others, if night begins to descend, and you should not come back if tomorrow, or after tomorrow, dawn breaks, because for you it will be much better for there to be no tomorrow and no day after tomorrow; so hide away now in the grass, sink down, fall onto your side, let your eyes slowly close, and die, for there is no point in the sublimity that you bear, die at midnight in the grass, sink down and fall, and let it be like that - breathe your last. ~ Laszlo Krasznahorkai

The symbols and the gifts and the tools of Awakening are noticed everywhere once you have opened your heart to them. They are free and Freely Given. They come with blessings and with no cost or sacrifice. They come easily to a willing heart and open mind. Be not afraid of Love. Love comes as a Friend and the Holy Spirit is Friendly and Gentle. ~ David Hoffmeister

But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?"
"No!" cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. "With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly." His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. "Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie before me. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Consider non your superior, whatever their rank or station in life. Treat all fairly or they will seek revenge. Be careful with your money. Hold fast to your belief and others will listen." he continued at a slower pace, " of the affairs of love ... my only advice is to be honest. thats your most powerfull too to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness. that is all i have to say"Garrow to Roran p 64 ~ Christopher Paolini

Love keeps you safe. It does not belittle you or make you feel ugly. When love touches you, it is with a softness that reminds you of how beautiful you are. Love accepts that you are not perfect and love does not demand that you change. Love patiently waits for you to reach your potential. And if you never do, love loves anyway.

Love does not put its hands around your throat. Love is all about you breathing because love is all about life. Love wants to watch you thrive and grow; it never attempts to stifle or wreck or manhandle. Love's presence is inviting enough for you to trust it. It won't blackmail you, it won't force you to bow down in fear. Love prays that it will always be enough to kiss away the scars in your heart for good. ~ Isa Garcia

I believe this with all my heart: The greatest coach of all time in my eyes is my mom. She's instilled in me a toughness and a perseverance and just a never-quit mentality, and I thank her every day for providing me, for what she sacrificed her life for. ~ Scott Brooks

Home is where your soul feels free. ~ Emily Nelson

She was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one - the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul. She was that unity sought for by philosophers through many centuries. In this outdoor waiting room of winds and stars she had been sitting for a hundred years, at peace in the contemplation of herself. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

All one night we sat, with a friend of his, in a big dark roadhouse outside of Philadelphia, arguing and arguing about mysticism, and smoking more and more cigarettes and gradually getting drunk. Eventually, filled with enthusiasm for the purity of heart which begets the vision of God, I went on with them into the city, after the closing of the bars, to a big speak-easy where we completed the work of getting plastered. ~ Thomas Merton

Every writer dreams of a perfect language. Every writer dreams of a language that obeys, that comes to heel. For some this language is spare and pure, pared down to reveal essential truths without ornament or obfuscation. For others it is devilish and twisting, folding back over itself to create layers of meaning, shades of nuance.
A language that will survive through the ages.
A language that will crack open the heart of readers like a hazelnut. ~ Helen Marshall

I've been waiting for you to do that."
"What?" Jesse could hardly breathe.
"Just fuckin'…kiss me. I'm never sure you want it like I do."
"I do. Always." Jesse couldn't believe that Shane would be unsure of anyone, let alone someone like him.
"C'mere, Jess. Kiss me again."
So he did. He wrapped his hand around Shane's neck, fingers delving into the damp silky strands of his hair, and yanked Shane's face to his. The kiss was different than most of their kisses had been before. Where there had been sweetness there was heat, soft touches were replaced by grasping, desperate hands. Tongues swirled and Jesse fisted his hand in Shane's hair. He pulled - and not very gently.
Shane moaned and tossed his thigh over Jesse's hip. "Jess…"
Jesse moaned in return. He couldn't believe how good it felt. In a moment of boldness, he ran his hands down Shane's back and cupped his ass through baggy jeans. Shane tilted his hips closer to Jesse's and deepened their kiss. He moved to his belt and fumbled with it for a moment before his jeans went loose under Jesse's hand.
Yes. I want to. His heart crashed - pound, pound, pound, pound - against his ribs. Jesse slipped his hand inside jeans and boxers until he was caressing the warm bare skin of Shane's perfect butt. Shane shivered hard and his back bowed, bringing his hips down on Jesse's. His mouth, that beautiful mouth, suctioned itself to Jesse's neck and Jesse shivered in return.
"Aw, fuck babe. I wan ~ Piper Vaughn

Pain is surprising; we cannot understand why we have been abandoned in love ... why we are unable to sleep at night ... Identifying reasons for such discomforts does not spectacularly absolve us of pain, but it may form the principal basis of a recovery. While assuring us that we are not uniquely cursed, understanding grants us a sense of the boundaries to, and bitter logic behind, our suffering. 'Griefs, at the moment when they change into ideas, lose some of their power to injure our heart.' - Proust ~ Alain De Botton

And quit saying my name like that!"
"Like what, Jillian?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"Like . . . like . . . a prayer or something."
"As you wish." He paused the length of two heartbeats--during which she was astonished he'd capitulated to her will, because he certainly never had before--then he added with such husky resonance that it slipped inside her heart without her consent, "Jillian."
Perish the man! "Guards. Guards!"
Her guards arrived on a run, then halted abruptly, studying the man standing before their mistress.
"Milady, you summoned?" Hatchard inquired.
"Remove this iniquitous scoundrel from Caithness before he breeds . . . bring"--she corrected herself hastily--"his depravity and wicked insolence into my home," she sputtered to a finish.
The guards looked from her to Grimm and didn't move.
"Now. Remove him from the estate at once!"
When the guards still didn't move, her temper rose a notch. "Hatchard, I said make him leave. By the sweet saints, toss him out of my life. Banish him from the country. Och! Just remove him from this world, will you, now?"
The flank of guards stared at Jillian with openmouthed astonishment. "Are you feeling well, milady?" Hatchard asked. "Should we fetch Kaley to see if you've a touch of the fever?"
"I don't have a touch of anything. There's a degenerate knave on my estate and I want him off it," Jillian said through gritted teeth.
"Did you just grit?" Hatchard gaped.
Karen Marie Moning

I think as a writer you never have to flee from fame because you're not that visible in the first place, but, after the Broadway success of 'Beauty Queen,' people were coming up to me all the time, and I wasn't really prepared for that level of attention. ~ Martin McDonagh