Quotes About Beauty

You know what's really, powerfully sexy? A sense of humor. A taste for adventure. A healthy glow. Hips to grab on to. Openness. Confidence. Humility. Appetite. Intuition. … Smart-ass comebacks. Presence. A quick wit. Dirty jokes told by an innocent-looking lady. … A storyteller. A genius. A doctor. A new mother. A woman who realizes how beautiful she is.

I don't need any plastic in my body to validate me as a woman.

Tonight, God was showing off, as pink and blue melded into purple, touched with a warm orange glow and the outline of the clouds, the fields, and the dusty road that seemed to stretch out in front of them forever

Life is beautiful and horrible and wonderful and awful all at the same time

For her part, she knew she was plain. She didn't make herself up or pay a whole lot of attention to how she looked. It didn't seem worth her time.After all, she had no real interest in dating.

The life of an animal lies outside of conjecture. It is far beyond the scientific papers and the campfire stories. It is as true as breath. It is important as the words of children.

The sound of slapping water, the deep swallows made only by large masses of liquid, was almost too much to bear. I stood at the edge of the waterpocket, where much of the desert dropped off below, showing pockets of even greater size, and lifted my arms straight into the sky. Beads came down my body. This was abundance.

My left hand is a Rorschach blotch all its own, a six-fingered, skin-blood-and-bone ink splatter. People see it and fly their worst fears and secret fetishes at full mast when they think they're being discreet. They see it as strange, fascinating, ugly, beautiful, disgusting or erotic depending on what's behind their eyes.

It's the beauty and curse of doing a daily show. Some days you've got nothing to talk about and other days Dick Cheney shoots his lawyer in the face and everyone is happy.

I long to drift through turquoise skies; race the wind in rampant flight. Ruddy chains have framed my eyes, they seize my heart and stain the light.

I walk the sand alone, and feel it stirring as I roam, upon this breathing earth, where wave on wave begins new birth. I sense a grand facade, where colors paint the hand of God. And in remorseful pain, I dance the stones of bitter strain.

For a brief moment two young brothers appear immobile on this rubble. Their faces are serene and still. It is my blood. My brother untouched and unchanged, alive now in some distant place, full of hope and grace. All sweet with no bitter; all bright and no pale. The rough is made smooth; the dark clouds, a dream.

I knew we'd been out there on the water a long time when the sun began its colorful descent to meet the horizon.

There were clouds at the mountains, and the snow pack reflected the sour-lemon sun into one of the most beautiful and perverse sunsets I had ever seen. The clouds were dappled like the hindquarters of an Appaloosa colt, and the beauty kicked just as hard.

In my life, I have been kicked by horses and bitten by them. I've been stepped on, crushed against gates, and thrown to the ground, but I have also been nuzzled, rubbed against, carried by, nickered at, and warmed by the great beasts. I thought of all the horses I'd known and couldn't think of a bad one.

The older I get, the more I think I look like a Muppet. Cady vehemently disagrees with this assessment, but she's fighting her own battle with this particular gene puddle.

a beautiful, intelligent woman with a body like Salome and a mouth like a saltwater crocodile.

I took the luxury of watching the crows playing tag above our heads for a moment more, the graceful arc of their patterns intertwining in figure eights of infinity. That was probably our job here, to keep going and to do it with as much artistry and beauty as our hearts could bear.

there's a goodlookin' woman behind every tree . . ." He joined me for the rest. "There just ain't any trees.

Un pezzo di cielo caduto in terra

Begin with the soft smelted upturned heart-shaped mouth made for smiling a smile kept for kindness, tenderness, incapable of malice. Am I going too fast for you? The almond eyes see out through their sleepy epicanthic fold. Trusting and calm, if a flicker from slowness, a further flicker from stupidity. Settled in slow-motion beauty, heart-breaking beauty.

When Julia was twenty-nine, her hair was already bar-coded. Now, at sixty-two, it was a solid helmet of bright pewter, level with her lean, brown jawbone.

Everything, he decided, was almost unbearably sad. Life was wonderful, but nobody seemed to know what to do with it, and the world was beautiful, but nobody looked at it except tourists.

Mother looked really wolfbait in rose.