Quotes About Appearance

Instead of broadening the choices of how to look good, we have only broadened the ways we try to look alike. Women are headed toward one face, one body and one expression.

We had the Belle Epoque. Now we have the Botox Epoque, permeated by plastic emotions from antidepressants and plastic veneers from collagen, silicone, cosmetic surgery and Botox.

I don't think I've ever seen you without braids. I thought your hair just grew that way.

I like to look nice when I go to see His Majesty, the Burger King.

Except for his eyes. Those were completely bloodshot. "What time did you get up?" David said, looking him over. "Four twenty?

It was very pretty. It also made Marlene look very demure, which she probably hated. Ideally, Marlene probably wanted an outfit that had a special holder for a gun.

David had, in fact, done the Sherlock thing that Stevie had dismissed for herself, specifically, the BBC one. He was wearing a sharply cut blue dress shirt, slender, tailored pants, and a long gray-black coat with a red interior. He had teased out his hair a bit and made sure it curled. In many ways, it was a perfect costume while not being a costume at all. And it was obviously intentional, directed at her.

I will not help you to pretend that I have a chance. I will not help you to preserve an appearance of righteousness where rights are not recognized. I will not help you to preserve an appearance of rationality by entering a debate in which a gun is the final argument. I will not help you to pretend that you are administering justice.

his stomach, cantilevered over his legs, did detract from the dignity, but it added to the kindliness.

She liked his face—its lines were tight and firm, it did not have that look of loose muscles evading the responsibility of a shape, which she had learned to expect in people's faces.

Wearing the hijab has given me freedom from constant attention to my physical self. Because my appearance is not subject to public scrutiny, my beauty, or perhaps my lack of it, has been removed from the realm of what can legitimately be discussed.

You can put lipstick on a pig. It's still a pig.

I had decided early on that if I couldn't dress elegant, I'd dress memorable.

From what he could see she had the legs of a much younger woman. Certainly not what he would have expected in the way of Unitarian legs.

She made it plain that her fondest wish was to have a grandbaby. Whenever fat Irene would pick up the baby, which was not too often, Mrs. Hoge would declare, Irene, you don't know how becoming that looks. As if someone ought to have a kid because it looked good on them.

Beautiful people liked to claim looks didn't matter, while throwing that currency around like novice bank robbers.

Bobby Bingo had skin like a baked potato. A complete vegetable man, Lou Ann thought

You from out of town?" he asked after a while, eying my car. "No," I said. "I go to Kentucky every year to get my license plate." I didn't like his looks.

Ugly as homemade sin.

here where we pay soothsayers and acrobats to help lose our weight

why, he very nearly almost looked handsome. If you could ignore the telltale signs that he is a certified creep.

was a guy called Copperhead. Supposedly he had the dark skin and light-green eyes of a Melungeon, and red hair that made you look twice.

Even a spotted pig looks black at night.

A car had pulled in, and the guy getting out of it was the weirdest-looking human I ever saw, not counting comic books. Stick legs, long white arms, long busy fingers that twined all over him. Running through his hair, wrapping around his elbows while he stood looking around the parking lot. A redhead, but not my tribe. He was the deathly white type with the pinkish hair and no eyebrows. That skin that looks like it will burn if you stare at it.