Quotes About Beauty

Shem's body looked so perfect, it could have been an idealised statue of male beauty. Daniel heard Sofia utter a lascivious, appreciative murmur, and a blade of pure jealousy sliced through his belly. She would want a piece of Shem. Everyone did.

The dull ruby light of the fire did not seem to touch the boy. He was the lamb to the slaughter; pure, beautiful, burning with his own white light. Othman experienced a twinge which was almost regret; all that potential soon to be quenched, extinguished, gutted. He allowed himself to bask in the ray of pure love for Daniel which speared his being.

The serpent shook itself and its image wavered. Tentacles rose from it, which presently Tayven realized were arms. The serpent had acquired a semi-human appearance. To the waist, it had the form of a beautiful boy which melded into the flexing coils. The creature's limbs wove upon the air in a cruel dance. It smiled, showing sharp teeth, and a narrow forked tongue flickered out.

I didn't want to be a pretty bauble. I craved to be far more dangerous." "There are few things more dangerous than a pretty bauble, as Almorante well knew. By now, I expect Tatrini does as well." "I have fulfilled my vocation then.

His face was a leering mask, all vestige of beauty fled.

This country should be enjoyed through the senses.

In her heart, she had always seen him this way: virile, handsome and nervy with energy.

You have a beautiful face, mister. I'd hate to think of it pecked away.

The young are evolving into a new species, which is stronger, sharper and more beautiful than their forerunners. Androgynous beings, they transcend gender and race. They possess keen psychic abilities and the means, through a process called inception, to transform humans into creatures like themselves. But they are wild in their rebirth and must strive to overcome all that is human within them in order to create society anew. They are the Wraethru…

Daniel's face looked up at him wondering, his arms around the shuddering form of Owen. They were beautiful. What had he been thinking of to abuse them? Hadn't his original purpose been to defend the children of humanity, to be their advocate? Why this?

A place like this should not exist in such a cruel world. To find it there was to have hope restored.

I felt gaunt and old and hideous; all this without a mirror before me, other than his eyes.

His eyes had become vaporous orbs, burning with intense blue light, and his features were dark and indistinct. His pale hair glowed like the reflection of moonlight on virgin snow, moving languorously around his shoulders as if lifted by a breeze.

We tolerate so much more than is healthy from those who are beautiful.

Long ruddy rays touched the surface of the lake, where black swans haunted the shores, shrouded among rigid spears of reds. The swans sang to the approaching night, and to Khaster, it sounded like a lament for the end of the world.

The prince had led Rav beneath the tables, telling him it was the best way to eavesdrop on adult conversations. Rav wasn't sure why they should want to do that, but complied, glamorized by Leo's startling pale Malagash beauty and knowing eyes.

His beauty made him ephermal, like a dragonfly.

Wine flowed from fountains, down into the mouths of those who lay in the pools beneath them. Narcotic fumes oozed from cubes of incense that smouldered in human skulls. I saw men and women of incredible beauty, like glaciers or naked flames. All were dancing, dancing.

They were beautiful to behold, but that night, it seemed a dark shadow hung over him. Their movements were more languid, their eyes unfocused. They had the look of creatures hypnotised by a snake.

I donned my smartest, blackest clothes and brushed my hair until it gleamed like jet. I put earrings of obsidian into my ears, and brushed the skin around my eyes with a kiss of charcoal. My mirror showed me the image of an aloof young man of glacial beauty. I was a black and white creature, even my lips were without colour, and my eyes were the darkest grey. It was as I desired.

This was Paraga's capital and his image appeared on the walls of nearly every building within the citadel. He was a delicate creature with enormous wings like sails. His face was almost feline, with long curling whiskers and enormous eyes with slit pupils.

He had the face of a judgmental angel, beautiful, and because of that, terrifying.

There was nothing more to it than that; it was not erotic in any way, but art, purely that; living sculpture, their planes of vital marble catching the light, using it to create new forms.

Her voice was low, beautiful. When she took off her glasses, her eyes would be large and deep as ocean pools.