Are you on a verge of finding the meaning to your life. The simplest task attempted and a bombastic result. Create a ripple of hope into the stagnant water of others life, stand up for an ideals, act to improve others, strike against the injustice, f...
Christ knew that by bread alone you cannot reanimate man. If there were no spiritual life, no ideal of Beauty, man would pine away, die, go mad, kill himself or give himself to pagan fantasies. And as Christ, the ideal of Beauty in Himself and his Wo...
Inspiration comes from everywhere: books, art, people on the street. It is an interior process for me.
All in the Family was intellectual; it was art.
All art is a confession.
When art wins, everyone wins.
Balance is the enemy of art.
Shapewear is the canvas and the clothes are the art.
But flowers feed our soul in a different way. They remind us of a God who creates beautiful things and takes notice of the tiniest detail
A woman in her glory, a woman of beauty, is a woman who is not striving to become beautiful or worthy or enough.
Why do beautiful songs make you sad?' 'Because they aren't true.' 'Never?' 'Nothing is beautiful and true.
I can see that the sadness has returned. And it's not a beautiful sadness- beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.
For true beauty—beauty, as it were, with a capital —is terrifying; it puts us in our place; it reflects back to us our own ugliness. It is the prize beyond price.
An original writer is not one who imitates nobody, but one whom nobody can imitate.
One of the drawbacks about adventures is that when you come to the most beautiful places you are often too anxious and hurried to appreciate them.
It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water.
their eyes are full of kindness as each feels the full effect of novelty after a short separation. They are drawing a relaxation from each other's presence, a new serenity.
He watched me rake my fingers through the tangles in my hair and smiled. “Quit it. You’re fucking beautiful.” “Just point me to the nearest eighties rock video,” I said.
Some of the imperfections will be visible, but this house has been here a long time. I see no reason to cover up the dings and scars. We've all got 'em.
I've learned to appreciate what I've got. I'm not going to waste an ounce of energy on sorting through the past or with worrying about the future. Life's too short for that.
The most beautiful moments always seemed to accelerate and slip beyond one’s grasp just when you want to hold onto them for as long as possible.
