Best 583 quotes in «appearance quotes» category

No one in Camden [Market] ever scoffed at me for looking too odd, but what I loved more was that no one ever scoffed at me for looking too normal, either.

Not at all. It's why people come. They say it's about looking smart, or beautiful, or professional, but it's not. Gray-haired ladies try to recapture their former brunette. Brunettes want to go blond. Other women go for colors that don't arise in nature. Each group thinks it's completely different than the others, but I don't see it that way. I've watched them looking at themselves in the mirror, and they're not interested in conforming or rebelling, they just want to walk out of here feeling like themselves again.

Nothing disappears before appears.

Of course, clothes don't make the man, but they make all of him except his hands and face during business hours, and that's a pretty considerable area of the human animal. A dirty shirt may hide a pure heart, but it seldom covers a clean skin. If you look as if you had slept in our clothes, most men will jump to the conclusion that you have, and you will never get to know them well enough to explain that your head is so full of noble thoughts that you haven't time to bother with the dandruff on your shoulders...Appearances are deceitful, I know, but so long as they are, there's nothing like having them deceive for us instead of against us.

One day, your beauty will manifest in someone's eye.

Only if you are afraid of looking foolish, and I would have looked far more foolish if I persisted with an erroneous belief.

Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and altars like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn

Once she said the world was an astonishing animal: light was its spirit and noise was its mind. That it was composed to feed on honor, but did not.

Our lives are mere flashes of light in an infinitely empty universe. In 12 years of education the most important lesson I have learned is that what we see as “normal” living is truly a travesty of our potential. In a society so governed by superficiality, appearances, and petty economics, dreams are more real than anything anything in the “real world”. Refuse normalcy. Beauty is everywhere, love is endless, and joy bleeds from our everyday existence. Embrace it. I love all of you, all my friends, family, and community. I am ceaselessly grateful from the bottom of my heart for everyone. The only thing I can ask of you is to stay free of materialism. Remember that every day contains a universe of potential; exhaust it. Live and love so immensely that when death comes there is nothing left for him to take. Wealth is love, music, sports, learning, family and freedom. Above all, stay gold.

Or perhaps it has another form that only you can see and imagine. What story does the simple stone tell? Where did it come from? Isn't it like stones you yourself have picked up on your travels? Why do we keep such things? Reminders of all that has gone before, perhaps they keep us.

Our shoes carry our body, so we polish them; our body carries our soul, so we clean the body, but, what about our soul”?

our mission does not consist in our appearance, a beautiful haircut or in showing off our body, decorations and clothes

Our true appearance is our mind’s appearance; whatever our mind’s visage is, that is our real visage! Thus, whenever you meet a person, concentrate on his mind to see his real look, try to understand his mind because his mind is his real face!

One can be interested in both fashion and politics, don't you think? They so often go hand in hand. Appearances, saying the right words, making people like you...

People care much more for how things look than how things are.

People tolerate a lot for looks. They tolerate much less for plainness.

Out from the servient shoulders of some smooth-tongued Waiter it stares, into the scared dilating pupils of the White Satin Bride with her pledged hand clutching her Bridegroom's sleeve. Up from the gravelly, pick-and-shovel labor of the new-made grave it lifts its weirdly magnetic eyes to the Widow's tears. Down from some petted Princeling's silver-trimmed saddle horse it smiles its electrifying, wistful smile into the Peasant's sodden weariness. Across the slender white rail of an always out-going steamer it stings back into your gray, land-locked consciousness like the tang of a scarlet spray. And the secret of the face, of course, is "Lure"; but to save your soul you could not decide in any specific case whether the lure is the lure of personality, or the lure of physiognomy—a mere accidental, coincidental, haphazard harmony of forehead and cheek-bone and twittering facial muscles.

Perfect vision only gets in the way, Kyra thought. We all look better when the lights are out.

Perhaps it's true that love is eternal. But it's appearance changes all the time.

Poverty, like obesity, has the tendency to add at least ten years to the appearance of its victims, especially those who are over the age of twenty.

Put some make-up on me and I look not unlike a china doll. Put me in a puffy pink dress and I look delicate, dainty, petite. Dammit.

Rylan!" Nadia and I turn our heads simultaneously towards the entrance to the living room as Tim Powers appears. "Yeah?" I yell across the room. That's when I notice the expression on Power' face. A mixture of awe, amazement, appreciation, and a bit of jealousy. "Your girlfriend's here," Tim informs me. He steps aside, and a goddess enters the room. It's been forever since I first had those dreams Ivy sent me with her in her disguise. But I still remember how she looks. Pale skin, long hair, bright-green eyes, and a model's figure. A perfect dream girl, who's now reality. Ivy smiles shyly as she steps into the room. Her skin is porcelain, unflawed and shiny. White-blind hair, straight and flowing, falls down her back and ends a little bit past her waist. She's not wearing her woven grass robe, but instead a dress mist likely altered from a piece of clothing from her clothes sack. It probably reached the floor at one point, with long sleeves, but the sleeves are gone and the skirt's been snipped away, leaving behind a green dress that shows off mile-long legs. But her face...all that pales in comparison to her face. Heart-shaped, with high cheekbones, an elegant nose, a well-shaped chin, and her lips—she's not covering them anymore—two shimmering, bright green pools I would be happy to drown in or go through. People believe the eyes are the window to your soul, and Ivy's soul is beautiful.

People love the facade of a perfection relationship because perfection seems alluring. What they don’t realize is perfection is terrifying.

Rejection makes you uglier, acceptance makes you, all the more, good-looking!

Religion is not what appears. It's what guides the appearance. There is an appearance of everything. But the appearance doesn't always have something behind it.

Say what you want, princess. You are a recipe for premature ejaculation, if I’ve ever seen one.

She and Effie were already putting on their turtle-and-hare show. Everyone paid lots of attention to Lena at first, because she was striking to look at, but within a few hours or days, they always fully committed their attentions to exuberant, affectionate Effie. Lena felt Effie deserved it. Lena was an introvert. She knew she had trouble connecting with people. She always felt like her looks were fake bait, seeming to offer a bridge to people, which she couldn’t easily cross.

She hadn't gotten his expression quite right in her imagination, because the stunned, vacant expression on Shane's face when she started down the stairs was even better than fantasy. His mouth actually dropped open. Next to him, Michael turned around, and although she hadn't counted on it, there was a warm fuzzy to making a hot golden-angel vampire blink and give her a quick, involuntary once-over. Claire stopped on the steps above them and did a tentative hip-shimmy. "Okay?" she asked. Shane's mouth shut with a snap, and Michael actually cleared his throat. "Fine," Michael said. "Fine?" That was Eve, coming down the stairs behind Claire. She moved around the roadblock and punched Michael in the arm. "She looks amazing. I'm not half g*y and I think she's hot." Shane wasn't saying anything. Claire felt warm and a little dizzy, the way he was looking at her. She resisted the urge to check to see if her skirt was straight -- she'd done it a dozen times already --and forced herself to meet his gaze and smile. "You sure this is smart?" Shane asked, which was not what she'd expected, not at all. "You look fantastic." "Thanks -- " He interrupted her. "Fantastic in this town pops you to the top of the take-out menu." She held up her left hand and pointed to her wrist. The gold bracelet was clearly visible. "I'll be okay," she said. "The vamps won't bother me." "Not even talking about the vamps. You're going to be drawing every guy there who's looking to get off.

SENSES, APPEARANCE and ESSENCE The world we see through our senses are very different than the world we see through our essence. Senses perceive the world of appearance. The first step of perceiving the world of essence is not to have any goal other than to understand. "Understanding" has to be the ultimate goal. Then, we can solve the problems.

SENSES, APPEARANCE, ESSENCE and EXISTENCE The world we see with our senses are very different than the world we see through our essence. Our senses perceive the world of appearance. Our essence perceive the deeper layers of existence. The first step of perceiving the world of essence is not to have any goal other than to understand. "Understanding" has to be the ultimate goal. Then, we can solve the problems.

She looked for any sign of the boy who'd taught her to whistle a hornpipe, who could palm an ace of hearts and make it reappear from her sleeve, but failed to find even a glimmer of him. Instead she saw Ida taking on a second life in the features of her only son, and for a quick heartbeat Jo was almost grateful for the scar tissue dimpled across her cheek, forehead, and chin. No one would ever be able to invade her face, she realized. She would always simply be herself, whether she liked it or not.

She was the quintessential twenty-first-century woman: She could build a high-rise in a Chanel suit and Jimmy Choos, give lessons in multitasking, and freeze the heart of the coldest competitor with a single unblinking gaze over the rim of her ebony-framed reading glasses. But that persona was like a bodysuit that she pulled on at eight in the morning and peeled out of at five in the afternoon.

Since nothing is absolute There is no absolute silence, Only an appearance Of temporary peace.

Size doesn't define your beauty and intelligence. Appearance doesn't measure the goodness of your heart and the hidden joy of your soul.

skinny as horsehair in a glass of milk

Social media has infected the world with a sickening virus called vanity.

Some people wish they were as happy as or happy like some people think they are.

That's No Ordinary Girl

The abundance of beards in periods of social unrest, times of revolt or upheaval, should be noted. It's the handiest way people have of making themselves mysterious.

The entire room turns and stares. There’s no doubt what they see—ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, tattoos and earrings. I don’t care what they see. All I care about is what she sees: a person unwelcomed or the guy she loves. A tear flows down her face, and the hand wrapped at her waist tells me she’s paralyzed. In a long gold ball gown that’s more skirt than dress, Rachel is truly the angel I believe her to be. A man in a tuxedo stands. “Son, I think you have the wrong room.” “No. I don’t.” I stride between the tables, keeping my eyes locked with hers. The closer I get, the more she straightens. Her hand falls from her stomach, and the tear clears from her face. Rachel gazes at me as if I’m a dream. I extend my hand, palm out. “I need help.” Her blue eyes lose their glaze, and the hue of violet I love so much returns. “So do I.”

The man who carries a parcel is anxious not to lose it -- he is parcel-conscious. The man who cherishes the feeling 'I am' is self-conscious. The jnani holds on to nothing and cannot be said to be conscious. And yet he is not unconscious. He is the very heart of awareness. We call him digambara clothed in space, the Naked One, beyond all appearance. There is no name and shape under which he may be said to exist, yet he is the only one that truly is.

Then as for those who gaze upon many beautiful things but don't see the beautiful itself, and aren't even capable of following someone else who leads them to it, and upon many just things but not the just itself, and all the things like that, we'll claim that they accept the seeming of everything but discern nothing of what they have opinions about.

The problem with social media is that it's great for your ego, but terrible for your sanity.

There's a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that. A lot of malice and dread and guilt, and so much loneliness, where you wouldn't expect to find it, either.

SENSES, APPEARANCE, ESSENCE and EXISTENCE The world we see with our senses is very different than the world we see through our essence. Our senses perceive the world of appearance. Our essence perceives the deeper layers of existence. The first step of perceiving the world of essence is to have no goal other than to understand. "Understanding" has to be the ultimate goal. Only then, can we solve the problems.

Shenanigans is a financial model on the catwalk.

She was endowed with great beauty for all those attributes that were outside her control, but it was said that in all characteristics for which she herself was responsible, she was utterly wicked

Sometimes shadow are even precious but every time her single glimpse flows me away.

That was when I saw it: behind the beauty and fake innocence was something else, something cold and calculating. Even when she smiled, I could see sin so deeply ingrained in her that no cardigan could hide it. [...] To anyone else, she was pure and naive, but this girl was hiding something. I knew only because the same sin had dwelled in me my entire life. The difference was she held it deep within her, and I let mine out of cage on a regular basis.

The aroma of the food may not have any connotation with it's taste and the nutrients it contains