Best 583 quotes in «appearance quotes» category

I am, for some reason, actually happy with who I am and the muscle, the bones, and the flub that exist beneath these clothes. I don’t need to lose 20 lbs. to be attractive. I don’t need to starve myself of the good things of life to be healthy. And, I don’t need to chase someone else’s ideal of what I should be looking like.

I am shrunken and shriveled inside, a rotten chestnut hidden beneath a deceptively smooth shell

I can be an arrogant people If I have to, or when the situation demands me to act so. It is one way for me to make arrogance useful. So if I know not people well, I don't judge them.

Identifying someone by his, or her, outward appearance is often the first and most common error in the world

I’d hate to see the look on my face when that mask came down and I saw the face behind it. Thinner than I remember. Paler. The eyes sunk deep into their sockets, kind of glazed over, like he’s sick or hurt, but I recognize it, I know whose face was hidden behind that mask. I just can’t process it. Here, in this place. A thousand years later and a million miles from the halls of George Barnard High School. Here, in the belly of the beast at the bottom of the world, standing right in front of me. Benjamin Thomas Parish. And Cassiopeia Marie Sullivan, having a full-bore out-of-body experience, seeing herself seeing him. The last time she saw him was in their high school gymnasium after the lights went out, and then only the back of his head, and the only times that she’s seen him since happened in her mind, the rational part of which always knew Ben Parish was dead like everyone else.

I do not know which of us has written this page.

I don’t always feel what I know I should feel. My thought crosses the river I swim very slowly Because the suit men made it wear weighs it down.

I enjoy a torture session on the rowing machine and I also enjoy my mom’s homemade peach cobbler. I enjoy flopping like that dead fish with hips that can’t lie in dance class, and I also enjoy ordering pizza with my kid, renting a movie, and downing popcorn while we share some special time together. I enjoy seeing how much I can lift at the gym and I also enjoy stuffing a fresh chewy chocolate chip cookie into my face when I’m having a hard day.

I feel the boy’s gaze on me, and I turn to him. He is still lying on the sand, propped on one arm, staring at me like a fisherman who has unexpectedly caught a shark in his nets. I return his gaze with equal candor, adding him up. His stubbled jaw is strong and just slightly crooked, his copper eyes large and expressive, his lips full. A small, cheap earring hangs from his left earlobe. A handsome boy growing into a man’s body, already powerfully built. Were he a prince or a renowned warrior, he would have entire harems vying for his attention. As it is, his rough beauty is hidden in his poorly cut clothing.

(...) I, for one, prize less The name of king than deeds of kingly power; And so would all who learn in wisdom’s school.

I found out pretty quickly that there is a lot of money to be made if you can become the kind of woman who doesn’t look like the kind of woman she is.

If we could only get rid of consciousness. What makes mankind tragic is not that they are the victims of nature, it is that they are conscious of it. To be part of the animal kingdom under the conditions of this earth is very well--but as soon as you know of your slavery, the pain, the anger, the strife--the tragedy begins. We can't return to nature, since we can't change our place in it. Our refuge is in stupidity [...] There is no morality, no knowledge, and no hope; there is only the consciousness of ourselves which drives us about a world that [...] is always but a vain and floating appearance.

If you understand that you are not just your appearance or your physical body, you will be better equipped to handle negative feelings or imperfection regarding your outward appearance

If you don’t like your appearance, then change it, but don’t keep doing nothing and then complaining about it, because it’s boring.' - Luis Martinez to Carly Conner

I’m not going to miss 95% of life to weigh 5% less.

I leaned my head back. "I look worse than I did the night you met me." "I thought you looked fine." I rolled my head to the side, so I could see him. Hoping the shadows made it so he couldn't see me. "What are you talking about? I looked like a Cirque du Soleil performer." "What are you talking about?" "The black dots around my eyes?" He shook his head. "I'm lost." "You were staring--" "Oh, yeah." He gazed through the windshield. "Sorry about that. I've just never seen eyes as green as yours. I was trying to figure out if you wore contacts." "You were looking at my eyes?" "Yeah." "Not the makeup?" He turned his attention back to me. "I didn't realize you were wearing any. That night, anyway. Tonight it's pretty obvious." "Oh." Didn't I feel silly? "I thought--" I shook my head. "Never mind." On second thought... "You don't like all the makeup?" "I just don't think you need it. I mean, you look pretty without it." Oh, really? That was totally unexpected.

I hate it, how high-stakes the fashion aspect of it has become. A long time ago, Janeane Garofalo wore cutoffs and a T-shirt to an awards show, and that’s always been my gold standard. I wish everyone could relax and be able to just wear whatever you want, and feel good and be comfortable. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but anybody who criticizes someone for what they’re wearing or how they look is a piece of shit. Happy-face emoji.

I'm an oracle of the past. I can accurately predict up to 1 minute in the future, by thoroughly investigating the last 2 years of your life. Also, I look like an old database – flat and full of useless info.

In appearance, the worldly life looks attractive, but once you enter into it, you can never become free.

I never met a woman that didn’t know if she was good-looking or not without being told, and some of them give themselves credit for more than they’ve got.

I needn’t be offended every time I have to look at you

Is love so gross a thing that it must feed upon publication and public notice ? It would seem so.

In the general American population, 3.9 percent of adult men are six foot two or taller. Among my CEO sample, almost a third were six foot two or taller.

In order not to be captured in a trap of depression at the latter end of your life, you should properly assess yourself, rightly understand your identity and realize that you are not the same as your appearance

... in some sense, she ignored her physical self, as if her body were merely something impersonal vehicle for moving around in. She seemed not to notice or care much what she wore or what she looked like.

I saw Demian's face and remarked that it was not a boy's face but a man's and then I saw, or rather became aware, that it was not really the face of a man either; it had something different about it, almost a feminine element. And for the time being his face seemed neither masculine nor childish, neither old nor young but a hundred years old, almost timeless and bearing the mark of other periods of history than our own.

It is all too common for people to invest tine into appearance but not in developing their inner man

It dawned upon everybody that Aggie, at perhaps a hundred and sixty pounds and five feet nine and a half, was, as Beth later said, 'dynamite in the physical culture department.

It is a mark of insincerity of purpose to spend one's time in looking for the sacred Emperor in the low-class tea-shops.

Vous n'êtes pas responsable de la tête que vous avez mais vous êtes responsable de la gueule que vous faites. You aren't responsible for the way your face looks, but you're responsible for the face you're making.

It is complexes that prevent women with a good appearance from adequately assessing themselves

It lies like a leper in purple, it sits like a dead thing smeared with gold.

It is neither judgment nor judgment according to the status quo with which we have a problem, but rather judgment according to God's Word. We sharply dress ourselves, go out into the world, shape ourselves, our personalities according to the world's standards and preferences, allow ourselves to be made dull by the world and its desires in order to appear successful and happy and attractive in the eyes of the world: we love the world's judgment but we hate God's judgment. Absurdly enough, the one which really matters, the one out of the purest of loves rather than that of a mere contract in hopes of mutual gain, is the one from which we so adamantly try to cut off, shut off, and distance ourselves.

It is weird for him to point it out. No one points out how I look. I am not a "point out how she looks" kind of girl.

It's sad, but in society, there are lots of people who judge others based on their appearance. Naturally, the enemies are those types of people. Therefore... Put on your armor!

I’ve been chained to my bathroom scale for two decades now. I’ve used the number on my scale to tell me if I’m valuable or not. I’ve let the number on my scale destroy many beautiful opportunities in my life such as scheduling family photos, having fun at the beach, or giving myself 100% in intimacy. I’ve let the number on the scale tell me if I should be confident in who I am. I’ve let the number on the scale tell me if I am worthy of kind thoughts from others. Ultimately, I’ve always let some ridiculous number on the bathroom scale tell me whether or not I should love myself.

I was never one to care about how I looked on the outside. That wasn't the real me anyway. Not that I didn't appreciate the way I looked now, I just didn't feel it mattered, because how you look doesn't change what’s in your soul.

Most people do not have a problem with being old. They have a problem with looking old.

Maclintick's calculatedly humdrum appearance, although shabby, seemed aimed at concealing bohemian affiliations.

Looks?” the skull said. “Who cares about that? It’s superficial. Outward appearance doesn’t interest me at all. Why do you think I hang around with you?” It chuckled. “Insult aside, that’s just one way in which I’m superior to every one of you, except for Cubbins.” I blinked. “What? Why? What’s George got to do with anything?” “What a person looks like doesn’t bother him much, or hadn’t you noticed?

More than being absurdly blond and absurdly messy, the Young Electrician had one of those extraordinarily sweet, extraordinarily vital, strangely mysterious, utterly unexplainable masculine faces that fill your senses with an odd, impersonal disquietude, an itching unrest, like the hazy, teasing reminder of some previous existence in a prehistoric cave, or, more tormenting still, with the tingling, psychic prophecy of some amazing emotional experience yet to come.

Most people don't mind being stupid, insomuch that they do not appear stupid; appearance and being are seldom simultaneous, congruent, and conclusive.

Never neglect the way you arrange things visually. Factors like color, for example, have enormous symbolic resonance.

My beef is with feeling forced to have a sense of humor about what I look like. Well, I don’t fucking feel like it.

Narcissism is as profitable to a model as scruffiness is to a homeless person.

Nick saunters into the gym and my heart basically stops. He’s ridiculously cute in his PE shorts and dark green T-shirt; and people that good-looking seem vulnerable, almost like they can’t be real. He’s real, though. He’s all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. Okay. His eyebrows, like Devyn’s nose, are a little big and if you stare at him long enough you realize that his lips are a bit lopsided. I have kissed his lips. I have felt his breath in my ear and I know without a doubt that he’s real, even if he is a werewolf. The massive muscles in his legs redefine themselves as he walks toward me. He waves a late pass at the coach and yells, “Sorry I’m late. I’ve got a pass.” “Not a problem, buddy,” Coach yells back. He and Nick are all jock bonding. Nick pockets the note, which is probably a fake. I can smell his deodorant even though he’s still far away. There are these things called pheromones, odors that guys give off to attract women. I swear his pheromones have my freaking name written on them. They hone in and attack. “You are getting all swoony faced,” Issie tells me with her singsong voice. She pokes me in the ribs with her elbow, gently. She turns to Devyn, who is smiling like a crazy man, just hanging back in his wheelchair watching the scene. “Dev. Look at Zara. She’s got her lovey-dovey look on.” As Is gazes at Devyn with her own lovey-dovey look, he says, “Yeah. Teen love. So obvious. So hormonal.” “I am not hormonal.” I fake glare at him.

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.

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.

Nothing disappears before appears.

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.