Quotes About Lovely

Ser Rodrik groused. His opinion of singers was well known; music was a lovely thing for girls, but he could not comprehend why any healthy boy would fill his hand with a harp when he might have had a sword.

Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard's sort of honor.

When I read Shakespeare I am struck with wonder that such trivial people should muse and thunder in such lovely language.

Great talents are the most lovely and often the most dangerous fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang upon the most slender twigs that are easily snapped off.

The collision was impending and electric, but the moment was soft and sweet: She positively glowed as she looked up at him. What, she whispered, palming his face. Vin took a moment to memorize her features and the way she felt beneath him, seeing her not just through his eyes, but feeling her with his skin and his heart. Hello, lovely lady...hello.

With a start, she forced a smile to her face. "I would prefer to be surprised." Now he grinned deeply. "Even more fun—well, as I said, I want to introduce you to someone." His smile faded a little. "I think you might like her." Her? As in a female? Like? Verily, that would happen only if the "she" in question had a horse face and a big butt, Payne thought. "How lovely," she said.

Which meant he was just plain precious, all the way around.

Fine." Desjani sighed. "Admiral, I recommend we get our intelligence officer up here to see if he can craft lovely poems for the singing spider wolves.

notice how he will come to manhood with his own particular soul bespeaking itself through the windows which are his eyes, and such lovely eyes surely do prophesy and indicate the loveliest of souls.

She was grinning and she should have been pretty when she grinned. She had good white teeth and a lovely, delicate mouth. But something always went wrong with Denise's smile. There was always something manic in it.

I think I have a pattern of nice and lovely and then dark and twisted.

They are gorgeous. They have beautiful blue eyes and lovely dark hair - that's the typical Irish.

The only thing that matters is to have charm and expression. Then comes that horrible gnawing doubt of our own magnetism. Is it possible that, though we are not lovely, we are not irresistible either? That we will have to go through life belonging neither to the triumphantly beautiful nor to the triumphantly ugly?

What is peace? Is it war? No. Is it strife? No. Is it lovely, and gentle, and beautiful, and pleasant, and serene, and joyful? O yes!

Sensual pleasures have the fleeting brilliance of a comet; a happy marriage has the tranquillity of a lovely sunset.

The principal difference between love and hate is that love is an irradiation, and hate is a concentration. Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the object of its hatred. All the fearful counterfeits of love — possessiveness, lust, vanity, jealousy — are closer to hate: they concentrate on the object, guard it, suck it dry.

We will not be recasting J.J. Murphy. He was a lovely man, and the best Denys Mallister we could have hoped for. And now his watch is ended.

There were, in other words, plenty of lovely things to discover at the time and to reminisce about later.

I think being named role models kind of happened just naturally, we never really asked for it. Which is lovely, I love the fact that girls look up to us and we empower people and inspire them.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air      Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;      Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter      When he appear'd to hapless Semele;      More lovely than the monarch of the sky      In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms Excerpt From: Christopher Marlowe. "The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus

But I have known many women--many women indeed, and it is in their nature to confound us, Othello. They are all by their natures lovely lunatics.

Her feet were bare, her mouth stained damson. Her pockets were all full of plums. She was young and lovely and surprised and dead. She was also blue.

Rosebud. Aren't you lovely.

Maidens stand still, they are lovely statues and all admire them. Witches do not stand still. I was neither, but better that I err on the side of witchery, witchery that unlocks towers and empties ships.