Best 460 quotes in «makeup quotes» category

GOD in not just in the details, He is the detail.

Hairspray and blusher, eyelash curlers, eye-shadow palettes the size of tea-trays. Even before they left school it was as if they were already rehearsing for some witless kind of womanhood.

Her eyes are shockingly black - shocking not because black eyes are particularly rare, but because she's wearing smoky gray eyeshadow and dark eyeliner to accentuate them further. Makeup, while the world is ending.

I had a dream about you last night. You set a timer on in the bathroom to prove how long it takes me to get ready. So I shaved your legs, made up your face and gave you lashes. An hour later you thanked God for not making you a woman.

i don't wear makeup for others the same way i don't decorate my house for others. this is my home & everything i do is for me.

I PAINT MY FACE. By Omrane Khuder. Mirror, distorted; I sit, paint my Face, Toxic white Make-up buries my Scars, My Eyes tell lies; Dumbfounded Confidence hides the Disgrace. Place the tragic Vehicle called My Life in to Drive, Sad pathetic Clown; Late for the suppression show, Despair another time; Let the chuckles and defeat derive. I paint my Heart; I hide my True. I paint my Soul; I keep it from You. I paint, I cannot accept; To ignore you the way you ignore Me? I paint my scarred and pitiful Face; No Will left to restore Me. I paint my Face; it’s all I know to do. My painted Face shatters the Mirror, yet still all I see is You.

It's not your makeup but how you are made up.

He had refused fancy clothes or makeup for this interview. His philosophy was that death should to be embarrassing; he was not about to powder its nose.

In 1770, a British law was proposed to Parliament granting grounds for annulment if a bride used cosmetics prior to her wedding day. —Marjorie Dorfman, “The History of Make-up

[I]n exact proportion as women grow independent, educated, wise and free, do they become less submissive to men-made fashions.

It's hard to say which I like more, the perfectly happy days or the hours right after we've ended a good fight.

Minimalism is a girl's best asset, blend tones, smudge hard outlines; if all else fails; Photoshop it.

Makeup can be used to express yourself as well. Those experiences should not be limited to women. Everyone should be free to be as colorful as they want to be.

Nobody wants to give up a weekend-long excuse to dress up and attempt to outshine one another.

Love feeds on deception.

Now I'm all messed up sick inside wondering who's life your making worth while.

No ornament can make a person look beautiful if the person has a bad heart! A good heart is the finest ornament, the best makeup, the best cloth, the best jewel, the best lipstick and the best earring!

My general feeling is that date make-up should be an honest advertisement for a potential relationship. Frankly, it’s easier for you that way. There’s no point labouring over lots of perfectly applied make-up if you are, in reality, a low-maintenance kind of girl who can’t possibly keep it up beyond the honeymoon period. Equally, it seems unwise to imply you’re someone who rolls out of bed and out to a Sunday farmer’s market all natural skin, flushed cheeks and a smidge of lip balm when your real life is spent in full coverage foundation and smoky eyes. Like any part of dating, it is always safer to be yourself because who can maintain a lie for long?

Now I'm all messed up, sick inside wondering where you're leaving your makeup.

Other young women were more than kind when it came to teaching him the basics of makeup artistry, but he did not like the idea of foundation, knowing enough alchemy to realize it had historically been made with lead and mercury.

She kisses the children goodnight, leaving lipstick on their foreheads and a trail of Chanel No.5.

Primary purposes of a mirror: (1) To help civilized men realize their imperfections, and, (2) To help the imperfect hide their imperfections.

She took down the framed manuscript from the kitchen wall. It was Kendra's prized possession, and part of her felt guilty for what she planned, but it had to be done. She carefully removed the parchment from its frame, then searched through the piles of translations and notes on the kitchen table. Finally she found the Secret Scroll on the chair where Kendra had been the night before. She carried both manuscripts upstairs and set them on her desk. Next she gathered paints and brushes and sat down. She studied the artwork on the Secret Scroll, then slowly began copying its rich patterns of gold, red, and blue onto Kendra's old manuscript. It was late afternoon when she finished. She studied her work. She had managed to copy the exotic birds and animals hidden in the foliage on the borders, and even the detailed picture of the goddess locking the jaws of hell. Her work was rough, but at a distance it would fool Toby or any of the Regulators, especially since they were afraid to touch it. Satisfied, she went to her closet. She searched through her clothes until she found the strapless top with the slit in the front. She slipped it over her head, then grabbed a silky black skirt and stepped into it. She carried her stiletto boots to the bed and tugged them on. At last she drew black liquid eyeliner over her top lid, added green glitter shadow, rolled thick mascara on her lashes, and brushed her hair. She added gloss to her lips and rubbed sparkle lotion over her arms and chest. Then she remembered the dragon stencils. Soon, she had a sinuous dragon adorning her thigh between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boots. She liked the look. She turned in front of the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door. "Dynamite," she whispered. Her reflection thrilled her. She looked vamped-out and mystical. At once, she sensed the fierce power of the dragon rising in her. She felt like an invincible goddess-warrior.

Stupid women were lured into it and assured they would become young and beautiful if they let themselves be pummeled and pounded and smeared with sticky creams, and have their faces lifted and their stomachs flattened. They paid a lot of money to Madame Olympia, who would put a little bit of magic into the creams and ointments that she used so that at first they did look marvelous. But it was the kind of magic that wore off very quickly, leaving the women even uglier than before so that they would rush back to her and pay her more money and the whole thing would start again.

That night Serena dressed to meet Zahi. She used a metallic green eye shadow on the top lids and the outer half of the bottom lids so that her eyes looked like a jungle cat's. Two coats of black mascara completed them, and then she smudged a light gold gloss on her lips. She took a red skirt from the closet. The material was snakelike, shimmering black, then red. She slipped it on and tied the black strings of a matching bib halter around her neck and waist. She painted red-and-black glittering flames on her legs and rubbed glossy shine on her arms and chest. Finally, she took the necklace she had bought at the garage sale and fixed it in her hairline like the headache bands worn by flappers back in the 1920's. The jewels hung on her forehead, making her look like an exotic maharani. She sat at her dressing table and painted her toenails and fingernails gold, then looked in the mirror. A thrill jolted through her as it always did. No matter how many times she saw her reflection after the transformation, her image always astonished her. She looked supernatural, a spectral creature, green eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer, thicker. Everything about her was more forceful and elegant- an enchantress goddess. She couldn't pull away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior in her had claimed the night.

The differences between women are all cosmetic.

The more Christian you are in this town, the more makeup you wear. I've always thought that it's because if you were to die suddenly, you'd look better for God.

There are many who think in one syllable, who say, 'women don't dress to please men--they dress to please themselves--and to outshine other women.

There were times when the mood of woman was a result of how she felt. Now days her mood depends on how her eyebrows are been drawn.

She dug through the clothes packed in the trunk until she found the blue halter top and black jeans she had been wearing the night Veto died. She wasn't sure why she had saved them, but she was glad she had, now. She was going to wear them tonight in honor of Veto. She carried them back to her room, stood in front of the mirror over her dresser, and slipped on the gold earrings that had been a gift from Veto. Then she started to dress. She rubbed glitter lotion over her arms and painted black lines on her eyelids. She rolled on her mascara, then stood back.

She simply converted an average face into beautiful face and a beautiful face into an angelic face.

Some women are good-looking … until they change their hairstyle.

Thanks, but no thanks. I need my makeup honey. - Carol

The beauty of a woman is not in her facial makeup but in the kindness of her soul.

There's no better makeup than confidence

Though Queen Victoria in England had suggested that makeup was impolite, even vanity, Gideon saw it as yet another weapon. It was not so different from magic.

These poor girls are just bad impersonators. They look cheap, really. There’s nothing special about them. They are just reaching out to get noticed. They don’t want to be invisible anymore. They don’t want to get lost in crowds.

Too often girls cover up their highlights instead of their shadows. And too often the right boys are too late to notice.

the truth doesn't tolerate makeup

Valkyrie smiled patiently. "I like how you do your make-up. Do you use a brush, or just dip your head in the bucket?

Under her thick pancake makeup, her skin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.

Under her thick pancake makeup, her sin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.

Women accept [man-made] conventions, repeat them, enforce them upon their daughters; but they originate with men.

Very sweetly, he always told her he loved her just the way she was. Although, honestly he had no idea. She shuddered to think what she would really look like if she stopped waxing, plucking, highlighting, manicuring, applying make-up and dressing with care and concentration.

When I put on makeup, I'm not doing it to pander to antiquated patriarchal ideals of feminine beauty. I'm doing it because it makes mr feel good.

Women! Dressed to kill the woman in them.

You think I'm pretty Without any make-up on You think I'm funny When I tell the puch line wrong I know you get me So I'll let my walls come down, down

When all the fights stop, so does the passion.

Why hoard away so many back-issues of People Magazine? Fashion magazines are just empty promises. You can go bankrupt blowing all your cash on expensive beauty products, but the only way you’ll ever look just like the people on those glossy front covers is if you know how to use computer editing software for photographs. Besides, people who think they are ugly, are never really all that ugly anyway. People who think they are pretty, are rarely ever all that pretty.

You cannot really stop aging. You can only delay or hide some of its effects.