Quotes About Beauty

Lara [Raith] was gorgeous, brilliant, and sexier than a Swedish bikini team hiking up a mountain of money.

It was worse than murder. It was twisted, wretched perversion, as though someone had bludgeoned another person to death with a Botticelli, turned something of beauty to an act of utter destruction.

Her looks were almost extraneous. They weren't any more important to her appeal than a glass was to wine.

But a sick feeling had settled into me, as I looked on this darkling house, with all of its stinking lust and fear, all of its horrid hate worn openly upon it to my Sight, like a mantle of flayed human skin on the shoulders of a pretty girl with gorgeous hair, luscious lips, sunken eyes, and rotting teeth. It repulsed me and it made me afraid.

Which in retrospect just goes to show that a pretty face can inspire even a bodiless spirit of intellect to dizzying heights of idiocy.

purple is my favorite color that isn't black, and

I'm so pretty, it's hard for me to think of myself as intelligent.

In the ruins of my office stood a woman with the kind of beauty that makes men murder friends and start wars.

It's a study in deliberate asymmetry.

Calliope was never still. Even when she was seemingly motionless, he could see her mind at work, sorting ideas, seeking solutions, cataloging the space around her. To see her beauty, one had to see her in motion.

They were pretty, too, a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, and they had nice . . . smiles.

with unnatural fury and grace.

Doesn't matter how pretty you are. What's important is how pretty you feel. No one feels pretty when they hear "no" often enough.

On either side of the double doors, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to plant and care for a half-dozen rosebushes. Someone else had gone to a lot of trouble to tear them to shreds.

And believe me, next to sex, washing and styling a woman's hair is about as intimate as you can get with her.

That things will unfold as they are meant to," Forthill said. "That even in the face of an immediate ugliness, the greater picture will resolve into something all the more beautiful.

She was a creature of sorrow turned to such rage that her beauty had become a knife that stabbed at the eyes of any who looked upon it.

Faced with an excess of beauty the mind can often only drink.

Nathan's mother is thinking about the body of Christ and the wings of angels. Her spirit lightens in the safety, the sanctity, of the church. Dark hair surrounds her pretty oval face. Light from the stained-glass window tints her skin. Nathan thinks about the body of the son of the farmer who owns the house Nathan's parents rented three weeks ago.

Birds are poems I haven't caught yet

Birds are holes in heaven through which a man may pass

I prefer the skyline of a shelf of books.

He picked up Samuel's saddle as if he were picking up doom herself, doom always owning the furthest, darkest reaches of the feminine gender. Pandora, Medusa, the Bacchantes, the Furies, are female though small goddesses beyond sexual notions. Who reasons death anymore than they can weigh the earth or the heart of beauty?

I'm hoping to be astonished tomorrow by I don't know what: not the usual undiscovered bird in the cold snowy willows, garishly green and yellow What could it be, this astonishment, but falling into a liquid mirror to finally understand that the purpose of earth is earth? It's plain as night. She's willing to sleep with us a little while.