Quotes About Beauty

She stroked my hair and told me I was beautiful, but I was old enough by then to know not to believe it anymore.

Looking at her, I thought again how beautiful she was - even in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup, she was breathtaking. So much so that it was hard to believe she could ever have looked at herself and seen anything else.

So, she went on, it got me thinking about what cost beauty. Or for that matter, what cost anything? Would you trade love for beauty? Or happiness for beauty? Could a gorgeous person with a mean streak be a worthy trade? And if you did make the trade, decide you'd take that beautiful swan and hope it wouldn't turn on you, what would you do if it did?

Looking at the pond, all I could think was that it is an incredivle thing, how a whole world can rise from what seems like nothing at all.

Just because someone's pretty, doesn't mean she's decent.

It's all about you, Colie. She touched one finger to her temple, tap tap tap. Believe in yourself up here and it will make you stronger than you could ever imagine. There is something infectious about confidence. And for that one moment, with my eyebrows burning and my eyes watering, I believed. And good hair never hurt either.

Macy: Seriously. What's it like?' Wes: Being perfect? I wouldn't know. Macy: Not being perfect. Being... gorgeous. Wes: Again, I wouldn't know. You tell me.

It seemed amazing to me that one night could hold so much, from a merry-go-round to a Pop-Tart with frosting to the most beautiful singing I'd ever heard.

I looked up and Rina was standing in the doorway of my room, her arms crossed over her chest. She had on a short, pink dress and strappy high-heeled sandals, and her skin — thanks to her mother's tanning bed — was already a deep brown. Her blond hair was down, curling over her shoulders, a pair of white sunglasses parked on top of her head. She looked so healthy and alive it was like she was almost sparking, right there in front of me.

beauty is your gift from God and it should be used and not squandered. Study this face as if it were a map of the ocean, your own trade route to the Indies. For it will bring you its own fortune. But always believe what the glass tells you. Because while others will try to flatter you, it has no reason to lie.

Venice the peaceful demands Venice the just.

How do ugly men make their way through life? He thinks of Michelotto. When he walks down the street men take half a step back from him. But he, Cesare, wields a different power. His face has always been his first weapon. Look at me, it says. I am what you see: easy on the eye, strong to the taste, a man with substance, someone to admire, for how can beauty this natural lie?

It was one of those perfect New York October afternoons, when the explosion of oranges and yellows against the bright blue sky makes you feel like your life is passing through your fingers, that you've felt this autumn-feeling before and you'll probably get to feel it again, but one day you won't anymore, because you'll be dead.

There's nothing more beautiful then the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.

It is hard to stop loving the ocean. Even after it has left you gasping, salty.

You love each other until the city becomes beautiful.

Not married. Mostly because no one has ever asked me," Leah said lightly. Izzy pulled a disbelieving face. "Are the men in Melbourne blind?" she said. "You're hot. If all doctors looked like you, my boyfriend would be at the local clinic every second day, begging for a prostate exam or something equally perverted." "Well, thanks. I think," Leah said.

You know I know next to zip about gardening, right? It's easy. You buy the pretty pots from the nursery, you stick them in the ground. If they die, you buy more. If not, you brag like there's no tomorrow.

covered in trees, and dazzling waterfalls spilling into blue lakes. There are also dirt roads zigzagging in and around. But the most amazing thing about the view is that there is a haze of multicolored sparkles hovering over the mountains.

This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.

Smallness is subversive, because smallness can creep into smaller places and wreak transformation at the most vulnerable, cellular level. In a time when largeness is threatening to topple us, I wish to remember and praise the beauty of smallness, in order to banish the Goliath of loneliness.

Do you not think, Mrs. Givings, that snow is always kind? Because it has to fall slowly, to meet the ground slowly, or the eyelash slowly— And things that meet each other slowly are kind.

There's a word in Japanese for being sad in the springtime – a whole word for just being sad – about how pretty the flowers are and how soon they're going to die.

But appreciation of beauty can also creep up on you. It can be a taste acquired through experience, time, love and deepening knowledge.