Quotes About Charm

I find that acrylics dry very fast - which is supposed to be its charm; however, I find that because of that quality they don't blend as nicely as the oils. The oils, for one thing, are softer and more flexible than the acrylics. Also, the colors are brighter with oils.

Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.

Surely there's a difference between cocky and lively and entertaining.

You'd be surprised how many doors flattery can open.

I'm kind of under the radar. Not a lot of people notice me. Which is surprising, because I'm so sexy. They're probably intimidated by my sexiness and crushability.

She'd make for a jazzy week-end, but she'd be wearing for a steady diet.

She's a charming middle-aged lady with a face like a bucket of mud and if she has washed her hair since Coolidge's second term I'll eat my spare tyre, rim and all.

She approached me with enough sex appeal to stampede a businessmen's lunch and tilted her head to finger a stray, but not very stray, tendril of softly glowing hair. Her smile was tentative, but could be persuaded to be nice.

It was a nice face, a face you get to like. Pretty, but not so pretty that you would have to wear brass knuckles every time you took it out.

Anybody ever tell you you're a cute little trick?

She approached me with enough sex appeal to stampede a businessmen's lunch

Then she lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theater curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air.

Sit down and rest your sex appeal.

It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window. She was wearing street clothes that looked black and white, and a hat to match and she was a little haughty, but not too much. Whatever you needed, wherever you happened to be—she had it.

Era rubia. Pero qué rubia. Cualquier obispo haría un agujero en una vidriera para verla

She went out slowly. The way she did it hadn't been learned at business college.

They were never young and will never be old. They have no beauty, no charm, no style. They don't have to please anybody. They are safe. They

He is in his late sixties, but has the charm of extreme youth, for he comes to a pleasure and hails it happily for what it is without any bitterness accumulated from past disappointments, and he believes that any moment the whole process of life may make a slight switch-over and that everything will be agreeable for ever. His manners would satisfy the standards of any capital in the world, but at the same time he is exquisitely, pungently local.

Whatever enchants also guides and protects.

He is the very pineapple of politeness!

There is no urge to touch, to kiss, to embrace. But I do it just the same. It is our last charm. Love isn't a thing, after all, but an endless series of single acts.

It's just the South. There's no point trying to explain it.

A man with charm is an entertaining thing, and a man with looks is, ofcourse, a sight to behold, but a man with honor - ah, he is the one, dear reader, to which young ladies should flock.

The conventional accept and are frequently charmed by a certain unconventionality.