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"Everyone wants a little bit of something beautiful."
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"A goatee is to beards what diamonds are to ornaments."
"Everyone wants a little bit of something beautiful."
"Isn't he beautiful? His silky hair, his muscles so strong and powerful yet amazingly, he trembles slightly at my touch, and the more I stroke him, the more he leans into my hand,' Keirah said her eyes remaining on the horse. Yes, Keirah, the horse is a fine one,' Wharick said as he slowly walked closer to her. 'What I said was not to you, Gwarda,' she teased, 'I was speaking to the horse."
"And as for Owen Warland, he looked placidly at what seemed the ruin of his life's labor, and which was yet no ruin. He had caught a far other butterfly than this. When the artist rose high enough to achieve the beautiful, the symbol by which he made it perceptible to mortal senses became of little value in his eyes while his spirit possessed itself in the enjoyment of the reality."
"It was very still. The tree was tall and straggling. It had thrown its briers over a hawthorn-bush, and its long streamers trailed thick, right down to the grass, splashing the darkness everywhere with great spilt stars, pure white. In bosses of ivory and in large splashed stars the roses gleamed on the darkness of foliage and stems and grass. Paul and Miriam stood close together, silent, and watched. Point after point the steady roses shone out to them, seeming to kindle something in their souls. The dusk came like smoke around, and still did not put out the roses."
"Oh, glorious Art!" thus mused the enthusiastic painter, as he trod the street. "Thou art the image of the Creator's own. The innumerable forms that wander in nothingness start into being at thy beck. The dead live again. Thou recallest them to their old scenes, and givest their gray shadows the lustre of a better life, at once earthly and immortal. Thou snatchest back the fleeing moments of History. With thee, there is no Past; for at thy touch, all that is great becomes forever present; and illustrious men live through long ages in the visible performance of the very deeds which made them what they are."
"It's the imperfections that make things beautiful."
"Beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on simplicity " I mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered mind and character, not that other simplicity which is only a euphemism for folly."
"Professionalism in art has this difficulty: To be professional is to be dependable, to be dependable is to be predictable, and predictability is esthetically boring - an anti-virtue in a field where we hope to be astonished and startled and at some deep level refreshed."
"Those Dutchmen had hardly any imagination or fantasy, but their good taste and their scientific knowledge of composition were enormous."
Explore more quotes by Kristin Cashore
"You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?""I've a knife in my boot," she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands."
"Alone in the forest, Katsa sat on a stump and cried. She cried like a person whose heart is broken and wondered how, when two people loved each other, there could be such a broken heart."
"Sneaking was a kind of deceit. So was disguise. Just past midnight, wearing dark trousers and Fox's hood, the queen snuck out of her own rooms and stepped into a world of stories and lies."
"He leaned heavily on the desk now, as if danger had strengthened him before and its lack now made him weak."
"Truths are dangerous," he said."Then why are you writing them in a book?""To catch them between the pages," said Teddy, "and trap them before they disappear."
"King Drowden has given his men instructions to infiltrate the town, bribe townspeople for the secrets of their neighbors, steal the neighbors' hidden treasures. Much more subtle than Drowden's usual smash and burn technique. We do hope Drowden isn't growing a brain."
"Through an arrow loop in the wall she saw a familiar horse and rider tearing across the camp toward the healing rooms. Brigan pulled up at Nash's feet and dropped from the saddle. The two brothers threw their arms around each other and embraced hard.Shortly thereafter he stepped into the healing rooms and leaned in the doorway, looking across at her quietly. Brocker's son with the gentle gray eyes.She abandoned all pretense of decorum and ran at him."
"Lady Katsa, is it?" "Yes, Lord Prince.""I've heard you have one eye green as the Middluns grasses, and the other eye blue as the sky.""Yes, Lord Prince.""I've heard you can kill a man with the nail of your smallest finger."She smiled. "Yes, Lord Prince.""Does it make it easier?""I don't understand you.""To have beautiful eyes. Does it lighten the burden of your Grace, to know you have beautiful eyes?"
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