appearance Quotes

“It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable.”

“You look... amazing!” And I have to say, I agree. I’m wearing all black - but expensive black. The kind of deep, soft black that you fall into. A simple sleeveless dress from Whistles, the highest of Jimmy Choos, a pair of stunning uncut amethyst earrings. And please don’t ask how much it all cost, because that’s irrelevant. This is investment shopping. The biggest investment of my life. I haven’t eaten anything all day so I’m nice and thin and for once my hair has fallen perfectly into shape. I look... well, I’ve never looked better in my life. But of course, looks are only part of the package, aren’t they?”

″‘Five days!’ Nate exclaimed. ‘Breaking a curse is no small matter,’ Mozag said. ‘Five days with greenish skin is a small price to pay. While you’re waiting, help yourself to the sardines.‘”

“My avatar had a slightly smaller nose than me, and he was taller. And thinner. And more muscular. And he didn’t have any teenage acne.”

″‘No one ever looks anything like their avatar.‘”

″‘You figure some kind of cult? […] The long hair, no surnames, the state of that tooth…‘”

“There we will, I pray, remain and learn and grow until the time when we will rise together to the ultimate heights, changing in appearance but never in devotion, sharing the transcendent glory of our love through all eternity.”

“You don’t believe all that crap, do you—that there’s only one way to look, and everyone’s programmed to agree on it?”

“But the moonlight and the setting, or maybe just the words he was saying, had somehow turned David into a pretty. Just for a moment.”

“He was traveling (on the train that never stopped). His self, his mind, raced on and he felt he hadn’t stopped going wherever he was going because he hadn’t yet arrived.”

“The housewives all admired [Emma] for her thriftiness, Charles’s patients for her courtesy, the poor for her generosity. Yet she was full of covetous desires, anger and hatred. The smooth folds of her dress concealed a tumultuous heart, and her modest lips told nothing of her torment”

“Pablo looked different, and it took me a moment to figure out how. He had a smile, a smile that showed his teeth, a smile that made his eyes scrunch up. He was making a little high-pitched chipmunk sound. Pablo was laughing.”

“And well she sang a service, with a fine Intoning through her nose, as was most seemly, And she spoke daintily in French, extremely, After the school of Stratford-atte-Bowe; French in the Paris style she did not know.”

“Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants.”

″‘Well, first of all, they are very beautiful,’ said Peregrine, leaning back against a tree trunk and ticking off the points on his fingers. ‘Then secondly and thirdly and fourthly, they all have long golden hair, blue eyes, and the most lovely complexions. Fifthly and sixthly, they are graceful and accomplished. Sev enthly, they have names like Persephone, Sapphire, and Roxanne. And lastly,’ said Peregrine, running out of fingers, ‘they are all excessively proper and extremely dull ... except when they are make-believe princesses who are really kitchen maids!‘”

“Pretty girls make graves.”

“Girls are from the earliest infancy fond of dress. Not content with being pretty, they are desirous of being thought so.”

“They are monsters, Malorie thinks. But she knows they are more than this. They are infinity.”

“As prayer warriors, we must remember that no matter how hopeless a situation may appear to us, God gives us power in prayer to do something about it.”

“Camilla was striped from head to toe. She looked like a rainbow.”

“Her hair was the same colour as a carrot, and was braided in two stiff pigtails that stood straight out from her head. Her nose was the shape of a very small potato, and was dotted with freckles.”

“If I look into a mirror and don’t like what I see, I won’t change my appearance. I’ll change my mindset.”

“be aware of these illusions and façades and to train ourselves to look through them. We must scrutinize everybody for signs of their character, no matter the appearance they present or the position they occupy.”

“That baby came complete. Their value was innate from their first breath. Their value did not depend on external things like wealth or appearance or politics or popularity. It was the infinite value of human life.”

Little Spook’s baby sister is very small but she has the most enormous voice. When Tiny Spook plays her favorite game of copying noises, especially Father Spook’s haunting cries, the Spook family have to stuff cotton wool in their ears!

If you go on making faces like Piglet’s, you will grow up to look like Piglet—and then think how sorry you will be.

“You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That’s Piglet.”

He was called Little Chandler because, though he was but slightly under the average stature, he gave one the idea of being a little man. His hands were white and small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manners were refined.

Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register one more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was a very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial, staring at her so loweringly.

Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem to be absorbing every detail of our person.

“Yes—Angela Norbury,” murmured Bill. “Not bad-looking, is she?”

“Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular Velasquez—I should say Van Dyck.”

She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humor.

She wore a faded brown sailor hat and beneath the hat, extending down her back, were two braids of very thick, decidedly red hair. Her face was small, white and thin, also much freckled; her mouth was large and so were her eyes, which looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others.

Her temper matches her hair I guess.

He was a tall boy, with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile.

Never in all her life had Marilla seen anything so grotesque as Anne’s hair at that moment. “Yes, it’s green,” moaned Anne. “I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it’s ten times worse to have green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am.”

You shouldn’t cry, Anne; it isn’t becoming, for your nose and eyes get red, and then you seem all red.

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty, but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn’t like it. Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her ‘Little Miss Tranquility’, and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners.

“The letter is gayly embroidered, and shows right bravely on your bosom!”

“But why does he not wear it outside his bosom, as thou dost, mother?”

“My new fan just matches my flowers, my gloves fit to a charm, and the real lace on Aunt’ s mouchoir gives an air to my whole dress. If I only had a classical nose and mouth I should be perfectly happy,” she said, surveying herself with a critical eye and a candle in each hand.

“To me she seems overloaded,” observed Eugénie; “she would look far better if she wore fewer, and we should then be able to see her finely formed throat and wrists.”

“On grand occasions you must wear your uniform; that will look very well. Do not forget your crosses. They still laugh at them in France, and yet always wear them, for all that.”

We need not say that a smile of condescension was stamped upon his lips.

He was still a pale young gentleman, and had a certain conquered languor about him in the midst of his spirits and briskness, that did not seem indicative of natural strength. He had not a handsome face, but it was better than handsome: being extremely amiable and cheerful. His figure was a little ungainly, as in the days when my knuckles had taken such liberties with it, but it looked as if it would always be light and young.

I was not much surprised to find that Mr. Pocket was a gentleman with a rather perplexed expression of face, and with his very grey hair disordered on his head, as if he didn’t quite see his way to putting anything straight.

She was a woman of about forty, I supposed,—but I may have thought her younger than she was. Rather tall, of a lithe nimble figure, extremely pale, with large faded eyes, and a quantity of streaming hair. I cannot say whether any diseased affection of the heart caused her lips to be parted as if she were panting, and her face to bear a curious expression of suddenness and flutter; but I know that I had been to see Macbeth at the theatre, a night or two before, and that her face looked to me as if it were all disturbed by fiery air, like the faces I had seen rise out of the Witches’ caldron.

Joe looked at me for a single instant with something faintly like reproach. Utterly preposterous as his cravat was, and as his collars were, I was conscious of a sort of dignity in the look.

“Alala! I have no cloth to wrap me. The kites will see that I am naked. I am ashamed to meet all these people. Lend me thy coat, Shere Khan. Lend me thy gay striped coat that I may go to the Council Rock”

“looking like ladies and refined”

“It’s red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,”