Passing beauties are only the fugitive reflections of the eternal. All beauty alters and all life melts away; in short, everything passes with marvelous rapidity; beautiful Helen of Troy has become a toothless skull, then a handful of dust, then nothing.
Gather therefore the Rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age, that will her pride deflower: Gather the Rose of love, whilst yet is time.
Miranda in Miranda's sight is old, gray and dirty; Twenty-nine she was last night; This morning she is thirty.
I hope you have lost your good looks, for while they last any fool can adore you, and the adoration of fools is bad for the soul. No, give me a ruined complexion and a lost figure and sixteen chins on a farmyard of Crow's feet and an obvious wig. Then you shall see me coming out strong.
And when you sigh from kiss to kiss I hear white Beauty sighing, too, For hours when all must fade like dew.
Looks fade. Brains don't.
The greatest justice in life is that your vision and looks tend to go simultaneously.
Beauty is all very well at first sight; but who ever looks at it when it has been in the house three days?
brains last, beauty doesn't.
Looks fade,' Mom would go on. 'But intelligence lasts forever.
An agreeable figure and winning manner, which inspire affection without love, are always new. Beauty loses its relish, the graces never, after the longest acquaintance, they are no less agreeable than at first.
There's a period in one's life when beauty is very important. For me, it was high school. But I had a grandmother who kept saying, 'Handsome is as handsome does.' That's always stuck with me.
Beauty loses its relish; the graces never.
What's David's role? David looks good, that's what David does. David looks good, and I'm the funny one, that's what I hear constantly. But I keep telling him that looks fade.
"Beauty fades," my father would tell me, "but dumb? Dumb is forever."
Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's eye.
A little while the rose, And after that the thorn; An hour of dewy morn, And then the glamour goes. Ah, love in beauty born, A little while the rose!
Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon.
If you see a whole thing - it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives... But up close a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern.
We all lose our looks eventually. Better develop your character and interest in life.
What the worm was to the corpse, his sins would be to the painted image on the canvas. They would mar its beauty, and eat away its grace. they would defile it, and make it shameful. And yet the thing would still live on. It would be always alive. (Dorian Gray regarding his portrait)
Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time.
Beauty doesn't matter because in the end, we all lose our looks and all we have is our heart.
Blanche talks about aging, and why should she be considered poor, because physical beauty is transitory and fading and she has such richness of the soul. I think that speech is so beautiful, and so telling and so true.
Things thought too long can be no longer thought, For beauty dies of beauty, worth of worth, And ancient lineaments are blotted out.
