Best 583 quotes in «appearance quotes» category

Art is the conscious making of numinous phenomena. Many objects are just objects - inert, merely utilitarian. Many events are inconsequential, too banal to add anything to our experience of life. This is unfortunate, as one cannot grow except by having one’s spirit greatly stirred; and the spirit cannot be greatly stirred by spiritless things. Much of our very life is dead. For primitive man, this was not so. He made his own possessions, and shaped and decorated them with the aim of making them not merely useful, but powerful. He tried to infuse his weapons with the nature of the tiger, his cooking pots with the life of growing things; and he succeeded. Appearance, material, history, context, rarity - perhaps rarity most of all - combine to create, magically, the quality of soul. But we modern demiurges are prolific copyists; we give few things souls of their own. Locomotives, with their close resemblance to beasts, may be the great exception; but in nearly all else with which today’s poor humans are filling the world, I see a quelling of the numinous, an ashening of the fire of life. We are making an inert world; we are building a cemetery. And on the tombs, to remind us of life, we lay wreaths of poetry and bouquets of painting. You expressed this very condition, when you said that art beautifies life. No longer integral, the numinous has become optional, a luxury - one of which you, my dear friend, are fond, however unconsciously. You adorn yourself with the same instincts as the primitive who puts a frightening mask of clay and feathers on his head, and you comport yourself in an uncommonly calculated way - as do I. We thus make numinous phenomena of ourselves. No mean trick - to make oneself a rarity, in this overpopulated age.

As a culture, we place great stock in external appearance. Our attachment to physical beauty is something that we need to let go of, yet it seems that the majority of people are racing toward it.

A single change can sometimes change your entire life

As I turned to leave the tent, she said, "Don't worry. Your own mother wouldn't know you." I said, "She never has.

As long as man has pride, he will appear unattractive and no one will be attracted to him. He may have a handsome face, his pride makes him unattractive.

Assume things are more complexed than they appear on the surface.

A thorough inspection of someone you believed to be loveable will send you back into your shell if all you saw in their life was all bullshit.

At the age of 46 I was starting to see the appearance of rainbow halos and starbursts around bright nighttime lights, problems reading small print, focusing issues with my eyes, and image recognition issues. I had been exposed to bright high powered 20 watt scattered sodium LASER light a decade earlier in very high altitude astronomy.

A woman who focuses on worshiping God will consider carefully how she is dressed, because her heart will dictate her wardrobe and appearance.

Beauty may be only skin deep but the judgments founded on it ten to go a lot deeper, whether we wished they would or not.

Beauty cannot be limited to physical appearances... because beauty can be felt without being seen.

Be careful not to appear obsessively intellectual. When intelligence fills up, it overflows a parody.

By the external appearance of your knowledge, you have attained (high) ranks and reverence with the people! So seek with Allah higher ranks and closeness by virtue of your hidden good deeds. And know that these two ranks, one cancels out the other.

But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

But beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty - it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life - froze it. One forgot the little agitations; the flush, the pallor, some queer distortion, some light or shadow, which made the face unrecognisable for a moment and yet added quality one saw for ever after. It was simpler to smooth that all out under the cover of beauty.

What do you hope girls take away from watching [Agent Carter]? I would hope that young girls can see that they don’t have to sacrifice their femininity to be taken seriously in the workplace. But also they don’t have to rely on their physicality or their appearance; that it’s just as important, if not a lot more so, to be able to use their intelligence, their wit, their humor and their warmth to be able to get where they want to and to achieve their goals in life.

Cole was meticulous to a fault; office scuttlebut had it that he never went out in public without first having his shoelaces ironed.

Chese now," quod she, "oon of thise thynges tweye: To han me foul and old til that I deye, And be to yow a trewe, humble wyf, And nevere yow displese in al my lyf, Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair, And take youre aventure of the repair That shal be to youre hous by cause of me, Or in som oother place, may wel be. Now chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh.

Committing to Nick, feeling safe with Nick, being happy with Nick, made me realize that there was a Real Amy in there, and she was so much better, more interesting and complicated and challenging, than Cool Amy. Nick wanted Cool Amy anyway. Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you? So that’s how the hating first began. I’ve thought about this a lot, and that’s where it started, I think.

Confidence cannot change my appearance." "It may not change your appearance, but it can change how you are perceived.

Don't Judge People By Their Outer Appearances, Even The Bright Beautiful Moon Has Its Dark Side Which It Keeps Hidden All The Time....

Cortney at times seemed unnerved by Da Costa's general appearance and manner, but most of all by his clothes, which, as always, looked as if they had been made by a good tailor for someone of quite different shape.

Divinity retains the appearance of insight, when in reality it celebrates ignorance. Its tenets are so much clay, and when the clay sets, it becomes dogma.

Don't be fooled by the appearance of the doors! You can meet extraordinary beauties behind a shabby door and a wonderful door can be opened to a dump!

Don't look shy if you wear rag and people gag, many are in the grave wearing skeleton, and you should even be happier for wearing a skin without clothes.

Cucullus non facit monachum; that’s as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain.

Dreams appear as seeds that when planted, must become a forest reserve.

Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story. Let your very identity be your book. Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

Don't tell me I'm "too tall" just because my height happens to threaten your rather fragile sense of masculinity. The fact that men cannot physically look down upon women who are taller than them is the very reason that many men find tall women so intimidating.

Eventually everything appears to disappear from the life. That's it.

During the war some of the country’s sharpest minds had looked as if they had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life trying to impress the 'natives,' and so in every crisis he has got to do what the 'natives' expect of him... A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things.

First impression is not the last reflection of a true friend, so if you are head over heels for someone who just bought you a cake, you'd better think twice before devouring your misery.

He is too presumptuous about the inanities of appearances, poor realities gone for a toss.

Fortune may shine brightly on a woman like that, but the shadow cast is long and dark.

He didn't look like a wealthy man, but it was the well-off who could afford such a disguise. You had to be rich to risk looking broke.

He knew not only WHAT to wear, but HOW to wear it.

For the first time in a long time, I actually look at her. I've always thought Lena was pretty, but now it occurs to me that at some point—last summer? last year?—she became beautiful. Her eyes seem to have grown even larger, and her cheekbones have sharpened. Her lips, on the other hand, look softer and fuller. I've never felt ugly next to Lena, but suddenly I do. I feel tall and ugly and bony, like a straw-colored horse.

Hands grab me, steady me. I jerk back, but they are surprisingly gentle. He doesn’t smile as I turn to see his face. He just stands there, letting me inspect him. He’s tall with a wide forehead and dark blond hair that’s cut short. His green eyes are deeply set beneath that forehead. His lips are wide and rugged like the rest of him. His hands have huge knuckles like he’s a boxer or arthritic or hits walls. He looks like he did when he pulled me out of the car, but stronger, taller somehow. He must be completely healed. He looks my age and he looks good, like the guy in high school that everyone, even the teachers, fall in love with.

He didn’t look as if he’d been through a whirlwind exactly but he’d certainly endured a stiff breeze.

Her face worked in an odd way, like knitting coming undone.

Her honey-coloured hair fell in heavy wavesbelow her shoulders and as she stared up at him her eyes, clear, speckled amber, seemed to tilt at the corners; her brows were black and swept up in arcs, and she had thick black lashesh. There was about her a kind of warm luxuriance, something immediately suggestive to the men of pleasurable fulfillment- something for which she was not responsible but of which she was acutely conscious.

He seemed normal again, or as normal as Myrnin ever got, anyway. He'd begged, borrowed, or outright stolen a long, black velvet coat, and under it he was still wearing the poofy white Pierrot pants from his costume, dark boots, and no shirt. Long, black, glossy hair and decadently shining eyes. Oliver took in the outfit, and raised a brow. "You look like you escaped from a Victorian brothel," he said. "One that . . . specialized." In answer, Myrnin skinned up the sleeves of the coat. The wound in his back might have healed--or might be healing, anyway--but the burns on his wrists and hands were still livid red, with an unhealthy silver tint to them. "Not the sort of brothel I'd normally frequent, by choice," he said, "though of course you might be more adventurous, Oliver.

Hey, Shell-bell," I say, leaning over her and wiping her face with a napkin. "It's the first day of school. Wish me luck." Shelley holds jerky arms out and gives me a lopsided smile. I love that smile. "You want to give me a hug?" I ask her, knowing she does. The doctors always tell us the more interaction Shelley gets, the better off she'll be. Shelley nods. I fold myself in her arms, careful to keep her hands away from my hair. When I straighten, my mom gasps. It sounds to me like a referee's whistle, halting my life. "Brit, you can't go to school like that." "Like what?" She shakes her head and sighs in frustration. "Look at your shirt." Glancing down, I see a large wet spot on the front of my white Calvin Klein shirt. Oops. Shelley's drool. One look at my sister's drawn face tells me what she can't easily put into words. Shelley is sorry. Shelley didn't mean to mess up my outfit. "It's no biggie," I tell her, although in the back of my mind I know it screws up my "perfect" look. Frowning, my mom wets a paper towel at the sink and dabs at the spot. It makes me feel like a two-year-old. "Go upstairs and change." "Mom, it was just peaches," I say, treading carefully so this doesn't turn into a full-blown yelling match. The last thing I want to do is make my sister feel bad. "Peaches stain. You don't want people thinking you don't care about your appearance." "Fine." I wish this was one of my mom's good days, the days she doesn't bug me about stuff. I give my sister a kiss on the top of her head, making sure she doesn't think her drool bothers me in the least. "I'll see ya after school," I say, attempting to keep the morning cheerful. "To finish our checker tournament.

He was a six and a half foot scowl. (on Rachmaninov)

He with the cleanest clothes isn’t necessarily the cleanest.

High heels? But of course! A lie has short legs.

High heels are a short (theist) woman's (subconscious) way of telling God to go to hell … in public.

His appearance in reality a hidden masquerade

He was dark haired and fair skinned, with lean, sharp-cut features, and the kind of gaze that tended to make people feel targeted. His eyes were unusual, blue with uneven swaths of green around the pupils. The green was so much more pronounced on the right side that in certain light it appeared as if he had two entirely different-colored eyes.