Best 583 quotes in «appearance quotes» category

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 major was very interested in the mountains, and we in turn were very interested in the major, a spare spruce man of nearly sixty who wore light shantung summer suits and was very studious of his appearance generally, and very specially of his smooth grey hair. He also had three sets of false teeth, of which he was very proud: one for mornings, one for evenings, and one for afternoons.

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.

There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherein he that cannot read A, B, C may read our natures.

There is no doubt that inner beauty is more important that outer appearance, but that doesn’t mean that your physical appearance is not important; would you pick up a chocolate bar from a toilet seat?

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.

There's something physical that changes with a person's appearance when they suddenly open up to you.

The gaze of others is quite without indulgence for our defects and that of Mantegna is pitiless. I am grateful to him. Harshness, in the realm of the arts, is a virtue, and it is sometimes a good thing to see oneself as one is. My stupor, however, comes from the fact that people recognise me where I myself seem to see a stranger. This leads one to meditate more deeply on the matter. Are they dwelling on my superficial appearance rather than on what I really am? Who can say?

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

There is no more hope for meaning. And without a doubt this is a good thing: meaning is mortal. Appearances, they, are immortal, invulnerable to the nihilism. This is where seduction begins.

the rotten tree-trunk, until the very moment when the storm-blast breaks it in two, has all the appearance of might it ever had.

The thing I've never understood about dancing till now is that it only looks stupid when you're on the outside, watching other people do it. When you're part of the crowd, moving along with everyone else, I can't imagine anything else being quite as much fun.

Thought, if I may put it, is the man behind the possession, appearance, things we like, things we hate and the very epitome of life.

To be unique calls for being unique in such a way that your uniqueness doesn't make others appear inferior, and a uniqueness that doesn't crave for anything apart from your own thing.

To come across as younger than they are: Women buy creams that promise to slow aging; men buy fast cars.

We are sometimes depressed by our failure to convince people who strongly believe that we are that we are definitely not depressed.

We have abolished the real world: what world is left? The apparent world perhaps? . . . But no! with the real world we have also abolished the apparent world.

We place such crazy importance on physical appearance in our image-obsessed culture, on youth and beauty to define our sense of self-worth, that aging, by default, becomes a kind of defect, something secret and corrosive and shameful.

We should not, therefore, be afraid of testing others--or of being tested ourselves. It is only by testing, or being tested, that we understand whether the substance or the person is as it appears to be or is merely masquerading.

What defines the essence of a person is more than just outward appearance

What’s more, his faded old jeans hugged his ass perfectly as he stepped forward to toss a ring, and then they loosened as he stepped back. Hug, loosen, hug, loosen, hug, hug…hug…loosen. Jeans all perfectly rumpled right down to his dull, black boots. No doubt he chose those jeans specifically for their butt-hugging abilities. He probably practiced that hug-promoting movement in the mirror.

Whenever they are condemning weaves or breast implants, some people speak so passionately that their false teeth almost fall out.

When it comes to human suffering, appearance is everything.

When you judge a woman by her appearance, it doesn't define her, it defines you. Ladies, never allow yourself to be defined by someone's inability to appreciate your unique beauty.

When you wear a tattered cloth to a banquet of the honorable, you look weird

Without imagination, things were only as they appeared - and that was blindness. Things were more than they appeared, so much more. When he considered an oak tree, it was not just a tree. To someone small, like an ant, it was a whole landscape of rugged barky cliffs and big green leaf-plains that quaked when the sky was restless, a place of many strange creatures where fearsome winged beasts could pluck and devour someone in a blink.

The skinnier and more toned I got, the fatter I felt. The more in shape I got, the more out of shape I felt like I was. And the more I made myself look good to the masses, the less attractive I felt like I was.

The value of human beings does not consist in their appearance

The wiser I become, the less I think beauty has anything to do with appearance.

Thought, if I may put it, is the man behind the pursuits, appearance, things we like, things we hate and the very epitome of our living. When you cripple the mind, you cripple the body, you cripple purpose and you cripple life

To be perfectly honest, it scared me a little. You get so used to seeing the same thing in the mirror every day you stop thinking about what you look like.

To lose weight, spend time at the gym. To appear like you’ve lost weight, spend time with people who are bigger than you.

Too late; my awkwardness had already made an unforgettable appearance, so, of course, I couldn’t be let off the hook.

To own beauty is the first lie of it.

Trying to keep up appearances is a signal of decay on the inside. Beware shallow living—in yourself and in others. It is only in the depths that life can thrive.

Vanity dulls the senses.

We all line up except for this guy in a wheelchair, Devyn. He smiles at me when I line up, introduces himself. He has a movie star smile, just white teeth and charisma, big eyes, dark skin. He’d be perfect looking if he didn’t have such a large nose, but the truth is it looks good on him, natural and powerful. He winks at Issie, who blushes. “You can do it, Is,” he says. She rolls her eyes, twists her lip, and says, “As long as I don’t pass out.” “If you pass out, I’ll put you in my lap and wheel you across the finish line,” he says, and it somehow isn’t sleazy because you can tell by his eyes how much he cares about Issie. I instantly like him. She blushes worse. Her face looks like she’s already sprinted a mile.

We seldom look like the way we look like when people we like are looking.

We suggest our new brothers and sisters who are somewhat freaky in dress, hair, and general appearance to ask the Lord in prayer for a balance. We do feel that beads, bells, and various astrological signs, along with the "no bra" philosophy of the Hip scene should be forsaken. We do not believe that a shave and haircut make a Christian any more than long hair and sandals.

What she most wanted was to blend in with her background by changing color and shape, to remain inconspicuous and not easily remembered. This was how she had protected herself since childhood.

When I spot Alex leaning on his motorcycle waiting for me in the parking lot, my pulse skips a beat. Oh, boy. I'm in trouble. Gone is his ever-present bandanna. Alex's thick black hair rests on his forehead, daring to be swept back. Black pants and a black silk shirt have replaced his jeans and T-shirt. He looks like a young Mexican daredevil. I can't help but smile as I park next to him. "Querida, you look like you've got a secret." I do, I think as I step out of my car. You. "Dios mio. You look ... preciosa." I turn in a circle. "Is this dress okay?" "Come here," he says, pulling me against him. "I don't want to go to the wedding anymore. I'd rather have you all to myself." "No way," I say, running a slow finger along the side of his jaw. "You're a tease.

When it comes to suffering, appearance is everything.

When selecting a one-night stand, a heterosexual woman who is materialistic is a trillion times more likely to choose a sexually unattractive poor man who seems rich over a sexually attractive rich man who seems poor.

Widmerpool had tidied himself up a little since leaving school, though there was still a kind of exotic drabness about his appearance that seemed to mark him out from the rest of mankind.

Yet, as I will make clear, any Pleistocene woman who relied on looks alone to pull offspring through was not likely to be a mother very long or leave descendants.

You look like something the cat coughed up, dragged through dirt, ate, and coughed up again.

Your looks are an important part of who you are." He winds a lock of my hair around his finger. "You wouldn't be who you are, the same personality, if you'd grown up looking different. You're a blend of your body and your soul.

A complete man should need no auxiliaries to his personal presence.

A dimple on the chin, the devil within.