Short Beauty Poems Quotes

If there is any one person you can't love, then you don't understand love. The bitter cup we have to drink is the dregs of humility; we must see past the outer shells of insecurity to the seed of divinity deep inside each one of us.
No one virtue is strong enough to stand on its own. No one vice is simple enough not to lead to all others. No one person can appreciate and support us as much as we need. No one event is enough to tear apart our lives.
What does this all mean?
We have to give everything or we will have nothing. We cannot take any short cuts. We have to love everyone, or we cannot truly love anyone. No excuse will mean anything to us in the end.
People are beautiful, don't forget that.
Don't let pomp and circumstance, society or folklore fool you with counterfeit beauty.
True beauty is usually not something you can see, but something you feel; something that inspires you. ~ Michael Brent Jones

NOURISH YOUR HAIR:
1. There are a number of 'kitchen recipes' for feeding hair. It needs the contents of your refrigerator just as much as your skin does. Right back to mayonnaise! Olive oil, eggs, and lemon juice. Massage the mixture into your hair, let it stay on for ten or fifteen minutes, then rinse it off with cool water. Cool - or you'll have scrambled eggs on your head.
2. For years I washed my daughter' hair with raw eggs, never soap or shampoo. I wet their hair fist and then rubbed in six whole eggs, one by one - a trick I learned from Katherine. Hepburn. (Four eggs will do for short hair, but theirs was long.) Some people use eggs beaten up with a jigger of rum; others mix an egg with red wine.
3. Hot oils is good for dry hair. Apply it with the fingertips and then wrap your head in a warm towel. Keep changing the oil for an hour, to keep it hot and penetrating. Then shampoo.
4. I believe in brushing. I made my girls give their hair the old-fashioned hundred strokes every night, using two brushes, and bending forward from the waist. It stimulates hair grows, and the rush of blood to the face is an added benefit. I pull my hair gently to encourage growth too. ~ Joan Crawford

I would lie for hours by the window gazing down upon the black lake and up at the mountains silhouetted against the wan sky, with stars suspended above. Then a fearfully sweet, overpowering emotion would take hold of me - as though all the nighttime beauty looked at me accusingly, stars and mountain and lake longing for someone who understood the beauty and agony of their mute existence, who could express it for them, as though I were the one meant to do this and as though my true calling were to give expression to inarticulate nature in poems. ~ Hermann Hesse

Creativity is alive
And thriving in my body.
The energy you bring out in me
Is within me infinitely.
My power is overflowing.
My lips are soft and welcoming
To the exhale,
The new Braille,
The silence that persists
After our moans die away,
I look at myself and say,
"Root down so you can burn.
Beautiful girl, it's your turn
To create magic within yourself.
This time, without his help.
Find your roots and find your fire,
Be mindful of what you desire,
Persist in what you know is true,
Stay focused on the endless route
Toward your own potential.
Allow the existential
Void to swallow you whole.
Take on your old role:
The lone seeker.
Become quieter.
Become meeker.
Become the beauty that you seek.
Embody strength if you feel weak.
Find love within the walls
Of this sacred temple.
Let yourself shake and tremble,
But keep your eyes ever fixed
On the horizon
Where it's rising,
No revising,
Fears capsizing
As you sail, sail, sail
Toward the wail
Of your siren spirit
Beckoning you to bloom
The flower in your womb,
The seed of creativity,
Your triumphant legacy."
These words, I will carry
Within me as I bury
Grains of wisdom
In the whispers of the wind.
And when I arrive
To the altar of our origin,
I'll be dressed in white and black,
A ~ Vironika Tugaleva

What comes to your mind when you think of the word Transylvania, if you ponder it at all? What comes to my mind are mountains of savage beauty, ancient castles, werewolves, and witches - a land of magical obscurity. How, in short, am I to believe I will still be in Europe, on entering such a realm? I shall let you know if it's Europe or fairyland, when I get there. First, Snagov - I set out tomorrow. ~ Elizabeth Kostova

Rosalind was the kind of girl who didn't have to try very hard; she just drew men like moths to a flame. A natural ash blonde with unbelievably dark blue eyes, she had a near perfect figure, always wore the trendiest gear and said exactly the right witty things.
Not like me. I'm no raving beauty by any stretch of the imagination. I've got masses of dark unruly hair which just sort-of hangs around, and I buy only clothes which suit me regardless of fashion. I wouldn't be seen dead in a mini-skirt – as I'm rather tall with long slim legs, I think I'd look like Olive Oyl. ~ Bernie Morris

And there's you,
with your purity and beauty.
You unyoke me.

We lie on the bed,
closer than a hand in a glove,
yet I still experience this distant ache.
I miss you even in your presence.

How did love find me
when I hid from it so masterfully?
How did love know when to strike?

I look into your infinite eyes
and can say nothing.
Because there, in front of me,
lies everything.
And you unyoke me. ~ Kamand Kojouri

I heard Joby Talbot's Hovercraft piece for orchestra and felt its immediate physical impact - visceral, unsettling, hungry and direct. These short five minutes became our keystone to unlocking a strangely seductive score that tensions the aggressive force of the White Stripes with the enigmatic beauty of Talbot's own compositions. ~ Wayne McGregor

The poems which touched her heart most, suffusing her with exalted emotion, so that she felt she could gather everything to her, were those which tell of the sorrow that wakes in the heart whose dreams have not been fulfilled, and of the beauty of that sorrow. The ship which in Autumn lies deserted on the shore, rudderless, mastless, used no more; the bird that cowers low in shelter, likewise in the Autumn, featherless and forlorn, driven before the storm;the harp that hangs trembling on the wall, silently mourning its owner's fall-all this was her poetry. ~ Halldor Laxness

Yet how strange a thing is the beauty of music! The brief beauty that the player brings into being transforms a given period of time into pure continuance; it is certain never to be repeated; like the existence of dayflies and other such short-lived creatures, beauty is a perfect abstraction and creation of life itself. Nothing is so similar to life as music. ~ Yukio Mishima

Billions of stars will lose it's fuel from the brightness of the only face, the guest of your heart,
The beauty of your soul. ~ Bzam

Through pain and growth, I have come to appreciate -no, more than that-I've come to love my fence, even though it may be different than the neighbors'. The concept of perfection is not flawless or ripped from a magazine. It's happiness. Happiness with all itsmessiness and not-quite-thereness. It's knowing that life is short, and the moments we choose to fill our cup wiht should be purposeful and rich. That we should be present for life, that we should drink deeply. And that's perfection. And my dad and my mom and my family-my past, present, and future with Nella, what the world may view as broken or damaged-have taught me what true beauty really is. ~ Kelle Hampton

Margaret could not help her looks; but the short curled upper
lip, the round, massive up-turned chin, the manner of carrying
her head, her movements, full of a soft feminine defiance, always
gave strangers the impression of haughtiness. […]
She sat facing him and facing the light; her full beauty met his eye; her round white flexile throat rising out of the full, yet lithe figure; her lips, moving so slightly as she spoke, not breaking the cold serene look of her face with any variation from the one lovely haughty curve; her eyes, with their soft gloom, meeting his with quiet maiden freedom. He almost said to himself that he did not like her, before their conversation ended; he tried so to compensate himself for the mortified feeling, that while he looked upon her with an admiration he could not repress, she looked at him with proud indifference, taking him, he thought, for what, in his irritation, he told himself he was - a great rough fellow, with not a grace or a refinement about him. Her quiet coldness of demeanour he interpreted into contemptuousness, and resented it in his heart to the pitch of almost inclining him to get up and go away, and have nothing more to do with these Hales, and their superciliousness. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell

Samuel looked at Chief WalksAlong, at all the Tribal Cops, at Lester. He shifted the ball from his left hip to his right. He spun the ball in his hands, felt the leather against his fingertips, and closed his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing?" the Chief asked.
With his eyes still closed, Samuel drove to the basket, around his defenders, and pulled up for a short jumper. The ball rotated beautifully. Years later, Lester still swore that ball stopped in midair, just spun there like it was on a stick, like the ball wanted to make sure everyone noticed its beauty.
"That shot was vain," Lester said.
"That shot was the best story I ever told." Samuel said. ~ Sherman Alexie

I wrote this book for every fat person, every old person, and every exceptionally short person. I wrote it for every person who has called themselves ugly and every person who can't accept their beauty. I wrote it for every person who is self-conscious about their body. I wrote it for every human being who struggles to find happiness on a daily basis, and for anyone who has ever felt overwhelmed by the mere act of being alive. I've been there. We all have. Yoga ~ Jessamyn Stanley

Poems On Life:
Life is given to us,
we earn it by giving it.
Let the dead have the immortality of fame,
but the living the immortality of love.
Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty
that can modulate their isolation into a
harmony with the whole.
Life, like a child, laughs,
shaking its rattle of death as it runs. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I love Africa....... Each day each breath, she consumes me. I have never changed so much In such a short time Each day I feel more part of her. Her colour, smell, her smiles , the ever changing landscapes. Vast deserts rolling hills plaines & Mountains. Her beauty and her majesty. Like sweet wine flowing through my veins, my heart sings as I wave to all those faces going by. Back home to my Grandmothers Birth place. They said "welcome home", those village boys. How did they know? You all said I would cry, I thought no, but yes I often do. Not for their pain but for their happiness . I cry now, together hearts will sing ," I love Africa". See her now as I write.. Kilimanjaro , it doesn't get much better .Tears on a hard mans face. There is no time but now , no words just peace. Thousands of smiling faces, the mass of souls are singing out . Yes I see and feel it now.... In those trees I sense the Spirits of our saving , could it be our looking for? Sailing ships a familiar shore, now I'm crying happy and singing . Thoughts intense of please no more. I love Africa. An epiphany I can't explain .Not like the ancient rituals , sound of rain, and men together by campfires. Beginning to end but there really is no such thing as time, just imaginings. We still love sitting by the camp fire and we love listening to the rain? I love Africa the Eden and our Birthplace , Man.
How can I explain to you my friend what I have seen and felt unless you too have seen it all ... Africa. ~ Michael Burke

The poems in Katherine Soniat's new collection, The Swing Girl, weave emotion's 'spray going farther than thought' with the 'bedrock things' of the trod-upon world. These poems eddy and pool in unpredictable and often surprising ways, much as the mind moves in its twilight state between waking and sleep. The fluidity of their cadence and the luminosity of their imagery carry the reader to the wellspring of poetry itself, that deep delight of which Robert Penn Warren spoke, whose source is, in Soniat's words, 'beauty on its way to being mystery.' ~ Kathryn Stripling Byer

Poems don't have to rhyme. Poems are about beauty and emotion; in other words poems are about feelings. ~ Nikki Giovanni

The nobility of Teresa Leo's poems is that they are not disposed to hide from the dark-rather, they display a mind that tends toward obsession and brooding, that works against fatality like fingers at a knot. The firm, attentive mind on display and the lucid unfolding of the poems are the life instinct seeking and finding its way through again and again. Love and beauty are the argument, but they don't win easily. Bloom in Reverse works through elegy toward survival with moving persistence, both driven and compelling. ~ Tony Hoagland

Every mother should be a true artist, who knows how to weave into her child's life images of grace and beauty, the true poet capable of writing on the soul of childhood the harmony of love and truth, and teaching it how to produce the grandest of all poems - the poetry of a true and noble life. ~ Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Though what is 'Romeo and Juliet' after all?" he added after a short pause. "The beauty of poetry and holiness of love are simply the roses under which they try to hide its rottenness. Romeo is just the same sort of animal as all the rest of us. ~ Anton Chekhov

Her thoughts were like the moon eclipsing the sun. ~ Jacqueline Simon Gunn

Manifesting the blessings is not really anything that is complicated or even difficult. Clear out what is not serving you or no longer actively being utilized. Give and share joyously. Receive graciously. Make amends. Adorn yourself first with inner beauty so the outer beauty may benefit from your best intentions. Contribute more than you take. Make each place you find yourself better than you found it. Be an abundant source of good tidings to and from God. In short, let go and let God. ~ John Morton

In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

I stand still inhaling the beauty of our memories,
Flashbacks of our togetherness burn my flesh
and I breathe love through every single skin pore.

(Excerpted from The room, chapter Pain) ~ Claudia Pavel

I wax poetic
On the beauty of sewers
Real short poem. Done ~ Rick Riordan

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten,
Eternal Wisdom can never die ... ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

To be beautiful you had to be willowy and tall. When you were as short as Clary was, just over five feet, you were cute. Not pretty or beautiful, but cute. ~ Cassandra Clare

I look at my parents
the way mothers look at their toddlers.
I take every chance
to witness them undisturbed.
To study every detail
as if sitting for an important exam.
I take note of their hands,
the curves of their ears, the way they
envelop a room and greet others.
The way their souls shine through
when they speak of something they love,
like a candid photograph
unveiling beauty and truth.
Even though I am present
in the same space as them,
I am distanced
because of the intensity of my love.
Every heartbeat reminds me
of the ephemeral nature of our bodies
and the blessedness of these moments
until my father looks up from his book
and catches me smiling.
And like a child he is bewildered for a moment
and smiles back. ~ Kamand Kojouri

The night before, I'd gone overboard with my Lila poems, and maybe it's true that I was hoping that in them he'd see the genius of me, the beauty of my words in his hands. ~ Beth Kephart

I will forever walk alone in a world overflowing with those that will never understand my meaning of "Learning to See" I'm always teaching myself to see beauty in all aspects of reality, yearning to learn the beauty in others, from their vision of everyday life to their deepest secrets of their dreams. As the sun rises I must smile, smile for those with the beautiful mind and soul. I'm so passionate for the visions I see, and the dreams I wish the world could be. ~ Michael Jones

In the OASIS, you got used to seeing freakishly beautiful faces on everyone. But Art3mis's features didn't look as though they'd been selected from a beauty drop-down menu on some avatar creation template. Her face had the distinctive look of a real person's, as if her true features had been scanned in and mapped onto her avatar. Big hazel eyes, rounded cheekbones, a pointy chin, and a perpetual smirk. I found her unbearably attractive. Art3mis's body was also somewhat unusual. In the OASIS, you usually saw one of two body shapes on female avatars: the absurdly thin yet wildly popular supermodel frame, or the top-heavy, wasp-waisted porn starlet physique (which looked even less natural in the OASIS than it did in the real world). But Art3mis's frame was short and Rubenesque. All curves. ~ Ernest Cline

we are all like poems.
some of us rhyme. some don't.
some are Pulitzer prizes
some are just scribbles

and yet, we all possess
a special kind of beauty

that can either heal
or cut to the bone

one that can never quite
be fathomed, nor forgotten. ~ Sanober Khan

There is so much beauty in different women – thin, big, normal, tall, short, medium, long hair, short hair, etc. Only narrow-mindedness can define it all in one woman. ~ Gloria D. Gonsalves

If death is like a sonnet then life would be a haiku. The sonnet, a lyrical poem, the beauty and magic with the last breath~ love, words fading and floating off into the abyss that is space whilst our everyday lives or days more important than normal become just a mere whisper in only a few short syllables through which we convey with our hearts the truth of the universe in a single moment briefly. ~ R.M. Engelhardt