Quotes About Appearance

I looked up, and it seemed to me that he was a vision of male perfection, dressed in a snow white silk shirt and a finely cut black velvet jacket, his curly black hair very properly and beautifully combed back over his ears and curling above his collar in the most lively and fetching style. I loved looking at him, rather as I loved looking at Merrick.

What a simple trusting being she was, with her eyes and mouth happily painted, and cheeks rouged, her breasts thrust forward and held in place by tight straps beneath her black silk dress.

What would Christ need to have done to make me follow him like Matthew or Peter? Dress well, to begin with. And have a luxurious head of pampered yellow hair.

I was thinking how very attractive he was, I couldn't stop myself, with his yellow hair so thick and long, turning so gracefully at the collar of his coat, and his large probing violet eyes. There are very few creatures on earth who have true violet eyes. The slight difference between his eyes meant nothing. His sun-browned skin was flawless. What he saw in me with his questioning gaze, I couldn't know.

What did it show of me? A long oval face, with features that were too delicate-a nose too narrow, eyes round with round eyebrows and a full cupid's bow mouth that made me look as if I were a twelve-year-old girl. No huge eyes, no high cheekbones, no rugged jaw. Just very pretty, yes, too pretty, which is why I'd scowled for most of the photographs taken for the portrait; but the artist hadn't saved that scowl into the face.

Of course the cameo said nothing of my height of six foot four inches, that my hair was jet black, my eyes blue, or of the fact that I was slight of build. I had the kind of long thin fingers which were very good for the piano, which I played now and then. I played now and then. And it was my height that told people that in spite of my all too precious face and feminine hands, I really was a young man.

He appeared the handsomest of men, his eyes utterly unclouded and almost fierce, and his cheeks beautifully flushed.

His golden eyebrows were very clear against his tannd skin, and he frowned slightly while smiling at the same time. It made him look very clever and loving, though I wasn't sure why.

What would Christ need have done to make me follow Him like Matthew or Peter? Dress well, to begin with, And have a luxurious head of pampered yellow hair.

Her light brown eyes were the color of sherry, fringed with long, thick, gold-tipped lashes.

She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

You can dress a pig up in satin and lace and its still a pig. Francis smiled hazily. Are you calling my intended a pig, Charles? Charles raised a dark eyebrow. Intended what, Francis? You surely cant be having respectable inclinations towards this girl. The bullet hit your arm, not your head.

She managed to finger-comb her hair into some kind of order, though it was a little too punk for her peace of mind. Not that she'd ever minded looking punk; in fact, the cut had been designed for that effect. But right now Reno was punk enough for both of them.

He knew her weakness. She wanted to be pretty, and thought she wasn't. When in fact he thought she was quite the prettiest thing in his memory.

Emma took a step back, surveying her. "So you're going into society on Rohan's arm tonight. What will you wear?" "I hadn't thought about it," she lied, pushing her loose hair away from her face. "I must have something left from my season." "Jesus God," Emma muttered. "We've got our work cut out for us." And suddenly she raised her voice. "Girls! We have a project!

You'll help me? I told you, I have once more come to your rescue. Like a deus ex machina, I appear where I'm most needed. You don't seem the slightest bit godlike to me, she observed. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact.

Never, ever, under any circumstances apply lipstick while at the table.

Oh, the lengths this family would go to so as not to spoil the picture of how things were supposed to be!

Alex Barrow's broad face, with the roughened skin that gave him an air of experience. His powerful, packed, wrestler's body. The thick black fur at the base of his throat. It was wrong to call him handsome, although all the women did. Really he was almost ugly, but in a stirring, thrilling way that made her shift in her seat as she thought about him.

Now look: Droplets of oil were dotted across the front of her best dress, over the mound of her stomach. She was clumsy and fat-stomached and she didn't even have the sense to wear an apron while she was cooking. Also she had paid way too much for this dress, sixty-four dollars at Hecht's, which would scandalize Ira if he knew. How could she have been so greedy? She dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand. Took a deep breath. Well. Anyhow.

Never wear backless shoes for a social occasion.

It must be horrible to see an ugly face when your surrounded by such beautiful people all the time.

It must be horrible to see an ugly face when your surrounded by such beautiful people all the time . In my opinion , it does happens sometimes .

He turned to face her again, his late-pretty composure crumbling. "But you're . . ." "Pretty? Think again." She smiled. "I'm Tally Youngblood. My mind is very ugly. And I'm taking your car.