The sign of a true woman isn't the ability to recite French poetry or play the pianoforte or cook Chateaubriand. The sign of a true woman is learning to listen to her own voice even when society does its best to drown it out.
Eve Marie MontTags: woman romantic beautiful
Och, Sarah, how shall I call augh’ beautiful again unless it be the sight of you?
Pamela ClareTags: beauty beautiful defiant
She reminded me of the sea; the way she came dancing towards you, wild and beautiful, and just when she was almost close enough to touch she'd rush away again.
Glenda MillardTags: dancing touch sea wild beautiful close-enough rush-away
... I'll tell her about Tia. I'll tell her how beautiful she was and how brave. And I'll tell her the most important thing of all: that her mother loved her better than her life.
Glenda MillardTags: life love brave mother beautiful the-most-important-thing
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.
E.A. BucchianeriTags: life beauty life-experience time yearning memories moments beautiful sad-but-true life-changing time-flies holding-on all-good-things-come-to-an-end beautiful-moments special-moments special-times
What a face this girl possessed!—could I not gaze at it every day I would need to recreate it through painting, sculpture, or fatherhood until a second such face is born. Her face, at once innocent and feral, soft and wild! Her mouth voluptuous. Eyes deep as oceans, her eyes as wide as planets. I likened her to the slender Psyché and judged that the perfection of her face ennobled everything unclean around her: the dusty hems of her bunched-up skirt, the worn straps of her nightshirt; the blackened soles of her tiny bare feet, the coal-stained balcony bricks upon which she sat, and that dusty wrought-ironwork that framed her perch. All this and the pungent air!—almost foul, with so many odors. Ô, that and the spicy night! …Pungency, spice, filth and night, dust and light; all things dark did blossom in sight; flower and bloom, the night has its pearl too—the moon! And once a month it will make the face of this tender girl bloom.
Roman PayneTags: love women beauty guitar flowers cleanliness sculpture faces smells psyche beautiful painting face roman dirt fatherhood barcelona payne roman-payne full-moon the-wanderess balcony skirt nightshirt
To leave out beautiful sunsets is the secret of good taste.
Dejan StojanovicTags: wisdom poetry literature secret sunset taste quotes thoughts beautiful sunsets good-taste poetry-quotes quotes-to-live-by literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic
It is beautiful to talk about beautiful things and even more beautiful to silently gaze at them.
Dejan StojanovicTags: wisdom poetry beauty silence literature quotes thoughts beautiful gaze poetry-quotes quotes-to-live-by literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic
It is beautiful to express love and even more beautiful to feel it.
Dejan StojanovicTags: wisdom love poetry beauty literature expression feelings quotes thoughts beautiful feel express poetry-quotes quotes-to-live-by literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic
Did you know I always thought you were braver than me? Did you ever guess that that was why I was so afraid? It wasn't that I only loved some of you. But I wondered if you could ever love more than some of me.
I knew I'd miss you. But the surprising thing is, you never leave me. I never forget a thing. Every kind of love, it seems, is the only one. It doesn't happen twice. And I never expected that you could have a broken heart and love with it too, so much that it doesn't seem broken at all. I know young people look at me and think my youth seems so far away, but it's all around me, and you're all around me. Tiger Lily, do you think magic exists if it can be explained? I can explain why I loved you, I can explain the theory of evolution that tells me why mermaids live in Neverland and nowhere else. But it still feels magic.
The lost boys all stood at our wedding. Does it seem odd to you that they could have stood at a wedding that wasn't yours and mine? It does to me. and I'm sorry for it, and for a lot, and I also wouldn't change it.
It is so quiet here. Even with all the trains and the streets and the people. It's nothing like the jungle. The boys have grown. Everything has grown. Do you think you will ever grow? I hope not. I like to think that even if I change and fade away, some other people won't.
I like to think that one day after I die, at least one small particle of me - of all the particles that will spread everywhere - will float all the way to Neverland, and be part of a flower or something like that, like that poet said, the one that your Tik Tok loved. I like to think that nothing's final, and that everyone gets to be together even when it looks like they don't, that it all works out even when all the evidence seems to say something else, that you and I are always young in the woods, and that I'll see you sometime again, even if it's not with any kind of eyes I know of or understand. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the way things go after all - that all things end happy. Even for you and Tik Tok. and for you and me.
Always,
Your Peter
P.S. Please give my love to Tink. She was always such a funny little bug.
Tags: growing-up love letters peter-pan beautiful remembering tiger-lily
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