Quotes About Beauty

red-trunked rhododendron trees looked like so many writhing russet snakes. In some places the forest floor was carpeted crimson with fallen rhododendron petals.

Morning mists skulked over the river.

I believe it's time that women truly owned their superpowers and used their beauty and strength to change the world around them.

I've never met a woman so beautiful and innocent, yet so skillful she steals your mind. I'm afraid you're going to be unforgettable." -Lynx

Next time we meet, my flame-haired beauty, my chivalrous promise will be worthless. Rest assured, we will meet again." -Lynx (in a note to Callie)

Any requirements on what this paragon should look like?" Henry started walking backward again. "We took care of that by saying she has to smile a lot. All women are pretty when they smile.

freeing one satin breast

The pearls weren't really white, they were a warm oyster beige, with little knots in between so if they broke, you only lost one. I wished my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.

Beauty was deceptive. I would rather wear my pain, my ugliness. I was torn and stitched. I was a strip mine, and they would just have to look. I hoped I made them sick. I hoped they saw me in their dreams.

To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.

Whenever she turned her steep focus to me, I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.

In the history of art there are periods when bread seems so beautiful that it nearly gets into museums.

She felt about a love set as a painter does about his masterpiece; each ace serve was a form of brushwork to her, and her fantastically accurate shot-placing was certainly a study in composition.

I felt, just then, a kind of indebtedness to green, the colour.

The day is early with birds beginning and the wren in a cloud piping like the child in the poem, drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe. And the place grows bean flower, pea-green lush of grass, swarm of insects dizzily hitting the high spots; dunny rosette creeping covering shawl ream in a knitted cosy of roses; ah the tipsy wee small hours of insects that jive upon the crippled grass blades and the face of the first flower alive.

It is my trade," he said. "I work for the bean family, and every day there are deaths among the beans, mostly from thirst. They shrivel and die, they go blind in their one black eye, and I put them in one of these tiny coffins. Beans, you know, are beautifully shaped, like a new church, like modern architecture, like a planned city

I was baffled by my fuzzy hair and the attention it drew, and the urgency with which people advised that I have it 'straightened', as if it posed a threat.

So I went up north to a land of palm trees and mangroves like malignant growths in the mud-filled throats of the bays, and orange trees with their leaves accepting darkly and seriously, in their own house as it were, the unwarranted globular outbursts of winter flame; and the sky faultless and remote.

And so passed one morning and every morning and day but the people growing gentle and together, like old bulbs without promise of bloom, thrown to the rubbish heap and sinking in the filth and blindness to sprout a seperate community of dark, touching tendril and root to yet invisible colour of maimed flowers, narcissus, daffodil, tulip, and crocus-leaf stained with blade of snow.

The dance is sweeter than the song.' "Let

If a girl were asked which part of a plant she would be, would any choose the root? Blindly clutching the dark earth, never seeing sun nor feeling wind? Toiling there to feed the stem and flower with never a thank-you from them? And who would choose to be the thorn? Thorns protect the plant from pluckers, but who gives honor to them? Nay, any girl would choose to be the bud, opening to the sun, fragrant and beautiful, tickled by bees and butterflies, and looked upon with love.

What Helen of Troy did in her spare time and what she was 'really like' are not questions that torture us.

I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows.

Tu sais, le coucher de soleil quand y a des gros nuages pis que le ciel est rose, ben t'es plus belle que ça. Tu sais, quand le lac est calme, que c'est comme de l'huile pis que les truites se mettent à sauter, ben t'es plus… excitante que ça.