raw beauty Quotes

There's such a thing as being a little too perfect - a little too shiny. I know I prefer things that have room to breathe and give you a story, a world, in which you have the room to move around.

he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.

There are fine things that are more brilliant when they are unfinished than when finished too much.

What place is so rugged and so homely that there is no beauty; if you only have a sensibility to beauty?

It is wonderful to feel the grandness of Canada in the raw.

The best poets, after all, exhibit only a tame and civil side of nature. They have not seen the west side of any mountain.

I want to start a trend of women as we really look. Some good things, some not so good. I am tired of looking at frozen faces.

She's not wearing makeup so her face just looks like skin.

I'm really drawn to the uncompromising realness of natural process: It's unadorned. It's not very pretty.

To me, my brand is luxury, it's art, it's women, it's raw, it's urban.

Simple, like uncarved wood.

You either get the point of Africa or you don't. What draws me back year after year is that it's like seeing the world with the lid off.

What's nice about concrete is that it looks unfinished.

It is well-known that there are many faces in the world over the finishing of which nature did not take much trouble, did not employ any fine tools such as files, gimlets, and so on, but simply hacked them out with round strokes: one chop-a nose appears; another chop-lips appear; eyes are scooped out with a big drill; and she lets it go into the world rough-hewn, saing: "ALIVE!

For some reason or other there was in me the desire to see the world clean and fresh and alive, as primitive things are clean and fresh and alive. The so-called documentary picture left me wanting something.

Compared with this simple, fibrous life, our civilized history appears the chronicle of debility, of fashion, and the arts of luxury. But the civilized man misses no real refinement in the poetry of the rudest era. It reminds him that civilization does but dress men. It makes shoes, but it does not toughen the soles of the feet. It makes cloth of finer texture, but it does not touch the skin. Inside the civilized man stands the savage still in the place of honor. We are those blue-eyed, yellow-haired Saxons, those slender, dark-haired Normans.