Quotes About Skin

I have olive skin, so if I'm in the sun for even 15 minutes, I turn brown.

My dad would call me his Cuban princess because I had really dark olive skin because I was always in the sun; but I don't really go in the sun anymore, so that is why I am so white.

I'm pretty fair-skinned, so I need to get in the sun for a little while.

My favourite beauty look is definitely '70s beauty - sun kissed skin, wavy hair and defined eyes.

My actinic keratosis is a result of the triumphalism of the beach. The sun exacerbates it.

As far back as I can remember, I have worshipped the sun. My skin is fair, but as the years have gone by, it has toughened and darkened. I now turn a rich golden brown every summer, but only after the first day of burning.

I have sun damage that I want to repair, but I also want to keep myself from further damage.

The sun feels so lovely on your skin, but it can be really damaging. I make sure to wear SPF 50 sun cream all over my body at all times. It takes a bit longer to get tanned, but the color stays way longer afterwards.

The sun rays are more powerful at high altitudes and the snow bounces the rays right back up at you. Shiseido sun care products are epic for protecting me and not irritating my skin.

I just don't think there's a sunscreen that gives you enough protection.

I liberally apply sunscreen and wear hats.

Neutrogena Ultra Sheer sunscreen makes me feel like I'm getting supersonic protection because I am so, so pale and need all the help I can get!

If it were up to me, I'd be using the SPF 100, but I read somewhere that it only protects you up to SPF 50 anyway, and anything higher than that and you're just putting bad stuff onto your skin. So I've always been about staying inside and wearing sunscreen. That's why my skin is like a baby's. Or a 14-year-old girl's.

We create the race by creating ourselves and then to our great astonishment we will have created something far more important: We will have created a culture. Why waste time creating a conscience for something that doesn't exist? For, you see, blood and skin do not think!

I'm soaked to the skin with emotion.

But thinking it my duty to stretch the flayed skin of my childhood on some sort of skeleton of convention

Uh...aren't you in Hollywood right now? You know, dancing up a storm with uberwitch Madison? I mean, that lovely girl, Madison? Only if Hollywood is in Willow Falls these days. And judging by the lack of tan skin and fake blond hair, I'm gonna say it's not.

Schwartzman smiled, sharing his enthusiasm. When the morgue had installed a camera with a UV filter on a tripod for timed exposures to help her identify pre- and perimortem injury patterns under the skin, she'd been as excited as Roger was now. Of course, at the time she'd been surrounded by dead people in drawers, so she'd kept the excitement to herself.

For most people, summer wasn't in full swing until the straps of your bathing suit left grill marks on your shoulders, or you could peel long strips of blistered skin from your back like a sheet of loose-leaf paper. For me, a fair-skinned person with freckles, a hearty sunburn was my way of saying to people, Look, I've been outside this summer, at least once. Please don't ask me to do this again.

Sex is a kind of alchemy. It's the one thing other than death that if used properly can change everything, like that first night with Madison, it's all in my head like a beautiful dream. I remember her skin. Its texture made me believe I'd never die.

Florida's number three industry, behind tourism and skin cancer, is voter fraud

The woman at reception was anywhere between thirty-eight and fifty-eight. Country skin puckering, mouth drooping like she'd been passed over for Bowls Club Treasurer.

The self is an oral society in which the present is constantly running a dialogue with the past and the future inside of one skin.

A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy's body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth.