Quotes About Beauty

Were there any places in this shunned landscape that bloomed with colour and life?

He had looked as beautiful as she remembered him, yet he had all but forgotten her.

Sensuality oozed from her straining limbs.

I shall never forget how he paused and turned, looked back over his shoulder at me. His eyes, his face were full of secrets and humor. I felt as if the arrow of the sun had pierced my heart. His beauty seemed doomed, somehow.

The most beautiful hara do not have to be cruel or mean or jealous. It is in them to be courteous and kind. Why be otherwise when the world has been so kind to them?

My beautiful one," he said. "Daniel. My eyes, my ears, my tongue, my heart." "Indeed, he is beautiful," Ainzu agreed. "Look well, for you look upon your own spirit. That is what Daniel represents. Is he not a lamb to your lion? Have you not lain down together?

In the world of the night, all is black and white, and we were there to celebrate its colours.

Part of him was beautiful, a creative, sensitive soul. But there was another part, a part perhaps hinted at, which I had not yet truly seen.

He was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. His feline body, now shirted in khaki drab, his blond-streaked hair, seemed to represent all that Ari could ever want, all that she would be denied once Star Eyed moved on.

Our human allies claim that eloim grow only more lovely as they age; Metatron is a testament to that supposition.

Her white skin fairly glowed as if lit by some inner fire. Her lips were the colour of red wine, purple in the shadows, and her eyes, like a cat's, were oblique and dark.

It was hard for her to equate this slim, beautiful young man with the scruffy yob she usually encountered. The transformation confused her, yet she sensed Owen was completely in control of how he appeared to people. That unnverved her. It made her think he was, therefore, not to be controlled by her.

An incredibly ancient creature, albeit not so much as to qualify for a position in the Parzupheim (although it was no secret he did much of their work for them), he looked as beautiful as raw light.

Verity was sickened by the mere sight of Othman, as it reminded her of what she'd seen in her father's study on Friday night. Yet his power and his beauty filled the room, bringing with it a sense of well-being and joy, as well as fascinating undercurrents of forbidden and wicked pleasures. Verity acknowledged Othman's power, and was wary of it, but she was not totally immune.

To Othman, it was like a fine brandy, a perfect Armagnac, rolled around the tongue. Such fiery, yet delicate flavours. The garden of Low Mede was ancient, timeless. Hanging there, a ragged shadow some inches above the ground, hidden among the old-fashioned shrubs, the esctatic bouquets of flowers rooted in the earth, Othman vicariously enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. Hadn't he primed Owen for this?

I see a boy. Ah, he is beautiful, and he has the way of wyrd within him.

The darkness was full of dancing specks of light, which I could see even when I closed my eyes.

When people stopped to stare at him, his flesh shrank, because he thought they found him objectionable. He did not realise how striking he was, how the mark of his people set him apart, surrounded him with an ambience of otherworldiness, something bewitching. This lack of self-awareness contributed greatly to his allure.

To those watching him, he appeared to dance as he walked.

She saw his face properly for the first time. It wasn't cruel, but it wasn't kind either. It was dark and terrible and beautiful.

He possesses a beauty beyond words. To see him is to desire him. That, of course, is part of his power. He is a prince of light, my dear, and we must take care, for fear of being blinded by him.

He was a beautiful man, Tatrini thought, an enigmatic stranger. For a brief moment, she imagined how it might be if Almorante was allowed to be emperor. It was as if the future breathed on her neck. In another world, they would not be marching on Old Caradore now. In that world, Palindrake would be at Almorante's side. But we are not in that world, Tatrini told herself. We are in this one and I have made it to my liking.

How could the same nose, mouth and eyes appear handsome in one man, merely plain in another?

Her face was round, her eyes rather staring, but despite the fact that she was no conventional beauty, her body oozed a sense of sexuality and power.