Quotes About Appearance

Wouldn't you think," Marcy said, "with all that money and all that time on their hands, nobody works, that these women could manage to look better than they do?" "Well it's not like they all married Tom Selleck," Jesse said.

One of the things that made Susan so interesting was the fact that she looked like a Jewish princess and worked like a Bulgarian peasant.

She wore a lot of makeup, badly applied. There was lipstick on her teeth. If she'd been a dancer, it must have been in Fantasia.

It was 10:45. Across the continent Susan would be putting on her makeup now, and spraying some perfume on herself and making sure her hair was perfect. I looked at my reflection in the window. My hair wasn't perfect. Neither was I.

Susan always claimed that when I ate a sub I looked like I'd fought with it.

They are more inclined to think you're innocent if you sound like Barbara Walters," Rita said. "You think Barbara would be a good date?" "Oh, oink," Rita said.

seem an honest man, sir," she said. " Ã¢â'¬ËœLet be be the end of seem,' Ã¢â'¬Â I said. She smiled faintly. " Ã¢â'¬ËœThe only emperor,' Ã¢â'¬Â she said, " Ã¢â'¬Ëœis the emperor of ice-cream.' Ã¢â'¬Â "Very good

There was no way to tell, looking at me, that I only had $387 in the bank. Three-piece

Forgive me. I am shy by nature:--& by position & experience, . . . by having had my nerves shaken to excess, & by leading a life of such seclusion, . . . by these things together & by others besides, I have appeared shy & ungrateful to you. Only not mistrustful. You could not mean to judge me so. Mistrustful people do not write as I write, . . . surely!

What if all's appearance? Is not outside seeming real as substance inside? Both are facts, so leave me dreaming.

She was looking at me expectantly, so I nodded. "Sure." If you can at least look smart, people will assume that you are smart.

Scott let Maggie out the rear, clipped her lead, and hurried to catch up as Sims and another Fugitive dick brought out Estelle Rolley. Rolley looked like a walking skeleton. Street officers called this "the meth diet." Cowly

Pike stood six-one and weighed one ninety-five, all ropy muscles and crimson arrows inked on his delts. He wore a sleeveless gray sweatshirt, sun-faded jeans, and running shoes. Dark glasses masked his eyes. No

Holman settled in, expecting her to be late. She would arrive late to establish her authority and to make sure he understood the power in this situation was hers. Holman didn't mind. He had trimmed his hair that morning, shaved twice to get a close shave, and polished his shoes. He had handwashed his clothes the night before and rented Perry's iron and ironing board for two dollars so he would appear as unthreatening as possible. Holman

Holman studied the two cops. They were both in their thirties with solid builds and burnished faces as if they spent time outdoors. They were fit men and young, but neither had Holman's heavy shoulders and weight. The man seated beside Holman was wearing a wedding ring. Holman

The clerk was a thin guy in his early twenties with limp hair and a spray of zits on his chin. His eyes were lifeless and dull, like a daydreaming cow.

You'll notice," Pike said, "that the only people in here who look like thugs are me and you." "You, maybe. I look like Don Johnson. You look like Fred Flintstone.

Michaels was an overweight guy in his early thirties with a wide butt and a hairline that hadn't seen his eyebrows in years. He had pale skin and washed-away eyes and dry lips that he continuously licked. The lips made me think he was feeling short and thinking about his next fix, but that's only because Livermore had said he was a junkie. Tre Michaels didn't look like a junkie, but then I've never met a junkie in real life who looked like Johnny Rotten.

A fourth man entered, this guy a little shorter than the others, but wider, and hard to see when your eyes are blurring. He was in his fifties, with crinkly gray hair and a florid face and a dark blue shirt open at the neck to show a lot of grizzled chest hair. He was also holding a McDonald's soft drink cup. Large. I guess that's where Dmitri got it from.

A short, slight gentleman was standing in the living room. He had wavy marcelled hair and he was wearing a brown summer-weight suit that had probably been new twenty years ago. His hair was more gray than not, and his skin was the color of fine cocoa parchment. He was holding a small bouquet of zinnias. I made him for his late sixties, but I could've been off five years either way.

Pike studied her. She was pretty and used to it, and the clothes and the hair indicated she liked being the center of attention, which would be a problem. The Savile Row suits were still piling up bags.

His hair was a quarter-inch short, his skin was cooked dark, and his knuckles were scarred and coarse. Hydeck

I had seen Tyson in person only once, and then from a block away. He was a nice-looking kid, but held himself close, as if wary. Amber was the opposite. She was lean, pretty, and her smile was bright with confident energy. A blousy, off-the-shoulder cream top exposed flawless skin, and long, slender legs were revealed by little white shorts that were loose, but not nasty. The Gucci sunglasses looked great on her.

We saw the new gymnasium and the new science labs and the newly expanded library and the new theater arts building and a lot of coeds with moussed hair and bright plastic hair clips and skin cancer tans.