Best 123 quotes in «pretty quotes» category

I’m neither plain nor pretty. I’m irrevocably average.

I need a kid like I need a bad heart. A pretty kid is a ticket to trouble... and I'm too old to ask for that. Shit, I haven't even booked Tommy the Face in two years. I'm turning into a jack-off idiot.

It was odd to see her stepping out of that gloomy place, like a pearl coming out of an oyster.

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 great to be Smart and pretty but selfishness kills it all

IT was pretty convincing.

Instead of being regarded as intelligent or knowledgeable, many a woman would rather be regarded as beautiful or good in the kitchen; many a man, as handsome or good in bed.

It felt as though the while globe was dressed in snow. Like it had pulled it on, the way you pull on a jumper.

My friends told me you was ADD but that ain't true at all I think you're pretty!

I walked until the water lapped against my chest, and then I kept walking until it kissed the underside of my jaw. I was surprised how cold it was. I closed my eyes and ducked beneath the surface. Thee was the wind and the clouds and the pure pool and the boy beneath its unsettled surface, and the blood, the boy's and monster's, defiling the pool.

I wish he would look at me the way he looks at his subjects. Because then he'd see there's more to me than shy, just like I see there's more to him than slacker

Listen to the sunset...see its pretty hue... When you see it, think of me...and I'll think of you...

Nothing less important in the eyes of God, Annabelle, than pretty.

No one will come and save you. No one will come riding on a white horse and take all your worries away. You have to save yourself, little by little, day by day. Build yourself a home. Take care of your body. Find something to work on. Something that makes you excited, something you want to learn. Get yourself some books and learn them by heart. Get to know the author, where he grew up, what books he read himself. Take yourself out for dinner. Dress up for no one but you and simply feel nice. it’s a lovely feeling, to feel pretty. You don’t need anyone to confirm it.

Only, it’s not an it. It’s a her. A zombie. A woman. A zombie woman. She’s older than Janine, closer to my age, maybe early thirties, missing a little bit of her face, but otherwise sort of pretty in a melancholy way.

Not pretty exactly, but gleaming with the loveliness of youth.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

Pretty people are a dime a dozen and sex can be had with a complete stranger......but crossing paths with one who awakens within you a poetic melody that echoes throughout the depths of your soul, that is one of life's truest delicacies.

Out comes a gorgeous, fleshy wheel of foie gras, perched on its side like a monument grander than its actual two-inch height. Around it are its minions, smears of savory-sweet onion confit paste and garlic tendrils puffed like Rice Krispies. You slide your knife down, slowly at first. The wheel is murky, muddy, and before you know it, the knife is being sucked to the bottom of the plate as you watch the wheel unpeel from itself. Out spills a green liquid, as mesmerizing as lava. Go on, take a forkful. Drag the finest, smoothest foie into the absolute essence of pea. Pick up a few pieces from the pool of accents. And taste. Put your fork down and wonder: how could this dish seem so pure and elemental, and yet have a flavor so electric, so challenging? Bakushan, from the Japanese word bakku-shan. A girl who looks pretty from behind, but is ugly in the front. This dish is not ugly by any means, but it offers that bit of shock, that moment of fear and excitement when the girl turns around and shows you the truth.

Pretty' doesn't mean 'good,' you know, Geneva. Real life isn't like fairy tales. 'Pretty' simply means that by accident you've got things arranged on your outside in an extra-pleasing manner. It doesn't tell a thing about your inside.

Pretty woman prays!

She had a beautiful face, a beautiful body, but also a distance in her such as he had never met a woman.

Rue gave a little mental sigh. No one would ever describe her as deadly attractive. She brightened a bit. Perhaps she could aspire to just deadly?

She'd have the two of them eating out of her shoe. I've watched her in action, but I could never get away with it. And, I console myself, being cute hasn't made her all that happy.

Regret perches like an umbrella over all of my days.

She's pretty in a way that distracts me just like she did in the Skiz ring. No, pretty's not the right word. Beautiful.

She must have been a nurse. She looked a few years older than me. Pretty. Naturally pretty, the type that's still attractive, even more so, when she's filthy.

She may not be the prettiest, or the smartest, or the wealthiest at the Academy, but she could be kind. Anyone could be kind.

She's pretty in a familiar kind of way that I forget to notice, until someone else notices and I'm reminded.

She suggested I buy her a drink. I shouldn't have, but I was quite drunk and she was quite pretty.

She was an ocean, confined in a coffee mug. And she had the galaxies, confined in her pretty eyes.

She was not the sort of woman guys settle for. She was the one they lust after and strive for. She was the one who ruins other people's relationships simply by existing, but she will always be surmounted as guys come to realize the virtues of the approachable girl next door. She was, in brief, too pretty to be trusted or had.

She was still glad she looked like Scully. He wasn't pretty either, but pretty people weren't the kind you need. Pretty people saw themselves in the mirror and were either too happy or too sad. People like Billie just shrugged and didn't care. She didn't want to turn into anyone pretty. Anyway, she had scars now, you only had to look.

She was so pretty, not the kind of pretty that hits you at first, but the kind that blooms the longer you were with her. Like a flower, she was always like a flower to me.

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made to be kissed — as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head. Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory.

Slowly the truth is loading I'm weighted down with love Snow lying deep and even Strung out and dreaming of Night falling on the city Quite something to behold Don't it just look so pretty This disappearing world We're threading hope like fire Down through the desperate blood Down through the trailing wire Into the leafless wood Night falling on the city Quite something to behold Don't it just look so pretty This disappearing world This disappearing world I'll be sticking right there with it I'll be by your side Sailing like a silver bullet Hit 'em 'tween the eyes Through the smoke and rising water Cross the great divide Baby till it all feels right Night falling on the city Sparkling red and gold Don't it just look so pretty This disappearing world"~David Gray

That was the thing about her. When you told her about an incident where you so badly screwed up, half expecting her to laugh at you in amusement, half anticipating a smirk of disgust, she would hardly express her pity or maybe she did express what she felt, for she would just nod her head, gesturing you to go on... As if it's normal... As if you're normal.

That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people would want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfast cereals based on color instead of taste. But I'm not pretty, not close up anyway. Generally, the closer people get to me the less hot they find me.

Society tells us that if we aren’t pretty, we need to change every part of ourselves until it’s satisfied with what it sees… and society is never satisfied.

Take your million smiles through billion miles; life will never get boring for you even for a while.

That is just what life is when it is beautiful and happy - a game! Naturally, one can also do all kinds of other things with it, make a duty of it, or a battleground, or a prison, but that does not make it any prettier...

That's the worst thing they do to you, to any of you. Whatever those brain lesions are all about, the worst damage is done before they even pick up the knife: You're all brainwashed into believing you're ugly.

The guns weren't of Mirajin make. Amonpourian. Stupid-looking things. Ornate and carved, made by hand instead of machine, and charged at twice what they were worth because someone had gone to the trouble of making them pretty. It didn't matter how pretty something was, it'd kill you just as dead. That, I'd learned from Shazad.

The greatest danger in finding the right path often lies in here: The right path may look ugly and the wrong path may look beautiful!

the girl with a moustache" they called me every now and then "It's about time you wax your arms" those who "cared" said I faced the fears of the dreaded thread on my face To succumb every other week to the world's ways

There are a thousand beautiful women out there, but only a handful of them possess the grace required by such beauty to stop it from looking ugly.

The most pretty little things have lethal thorns.

The problem is that she is too pretty. When you are too pretty, the other parts of you do not become strong.

The speech of God’s beautiful woman is a fountain of life to those around her.