Best 11119 quotes in «beautiful quotes» category

He's my father!" she bellowed, pointing to Trevanion. "Vestie!" Beatriss said firmly, stopping to stare up at her. "I'll snip at the tongue if I ever see it in such a way again! Trevanion, speak to her." Vestie hung her head, shamefaced. "Vestie," he said, his voice still gentle. "Yes, Father." "Shout it out louder, my love. Shout it out louder.

He simply translated what was in LuLing's heart: her better intentions, her hopes.

He stood and stepped up behind her. Why not? It's the truth. I like spending time with you. You're strong, beautiful and brave. What more could a man ask for?

He thinks you're pretty." Genevieve yawned. "Guys always think you're pretty." "Well people think you look like me," I responded. "They're only being nice." Her voice was hurt as she curled closer to me. "They aren't being nice. You're beautiful, smart, and you know who you are. You're never afraid of saying what you believe in. I never want you to forget that, Genevieve," I spoke tenderly as I watched her eyes start to sag. "I love you, Genevieve.

He swallowed nervously, but in a schoolboy crush kind of way. She was so beautiful. He had been admiring her beauty for the past few days, but it never seemed right to act on it. Somehow, things felt more normal being in his home. It was like the past few days were just a crazy nightmare that had finally ended, except it didn’t. It was only on hold for a while, but it was long enough to act on his feelings. He wanted this woman badly. Everything about her was absolutely perfect!

He tells her that she’s beautiful. She has never heard that before, though she has sometimes privately suspected it of herself, but it feels different to hear it from another person.

...he walked up and down through life.

He was beautiful in the way that a breeze is beautiful—the kind of beauty you feel gratitude for.

He was close enough now to see that her profile was designed to do dramatic things to hearts: stop them, steal them, break them.

He was beautiful and still is, we just couldn’t flow within the same constellation.

He was sort of beautiful. In his own dark, depressing way, but still. She was going to miss that stupid fucking beautiful face.

He was fine; he, that orphan that foundling that outcast; he felt himself august and strong; he looked full in the face that society from which he was banished, and into which he had so powerfully intervened; that human justice from which he had snatched its prey; all those tigers whose jaws perforce remained empty; those myrmidons, those judges, those executioners, all that royal power which he, poor, insignificant being, had foiled with the power of God.

He was no god, just an artist; and when an artist is a man, he needs a woman to create like a god.

He was too beautiful. Way more beautiful than me and way more beautiful than a beautiful woman. Have you met these men? His too beautiful voice and his beautiful hands and his beautiful cock. But the beauty went all haywire on the inside because he thought he was shit. And that thinking he was shit? It transformed him into the exact opposite of me - the most passive man on the planet. Particularly around any kind of high energy or conflict. Which was basically me, in the flesh.

He who knows everything about the future must surely be a cursed person! Because life is beautiful if you do not know what life will bring you!

Hey, Beautiful… There is room for all that you are and everything you have to offer our world. Share yourself.

Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

His blue-green eyes were dark pools of immeasurable depth, pools you could drown yourself in and never again come up for air.

His gaze drank me in and he made no attempt to conceal that fact.

His lips brushed my cheek, and I found it hard to concentrate."I lied earlier." "About what." His hands slid to my lower back."When I said you looked great? I wasn't completely honest." That was not what I expected. I turned my head the slightest and then bit back a gasp. Our mouths were centimeters apart and I thought about Brit's certainty that he would kiss me tonight. I forced my tongue to work."You don't think I look great?" "No,"he said, his expression serious as one hand followed the line of my spine, resting below the edges of my hair. He lowered his head so that his temple pressed against mine. "You look beautiful tonight." My breath caught."Thank you.

His hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her gently. "You are even more beautiful when you dance.

His power sings to your blood. I witnessed your reaction to him just now. He’ll be a king in a few years... And you’ll be his queen.

His smile is too beautiful for this world, and I am dying of love.

His stories were not always new, but there was in the telling of them a special kind of magic. His voice could roll like thunder or hush down into a zepherlike whisper. He could imitate the voices of a dozen men at once; whistle so like a bird that the birds themselves would come to him to hear what he had to say; and when when he imitated the howl of a wolf, the sound could raise the hair on the backs of his listeners' necks and strike a chill into their hearts like the depths of a Drasnian winter. He could make the sound of rain and of wind and even, most miraculously, the sound of snow falling.

His voice had a faint trace of an accent she couldn't place - one that made her pretty sure he was no local kid infected the night before.

Honestly Feb! Have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror lately? You will see a drop dead sumptuous vixen staring back at you. No excuses! Tomorrow, we are taking you shopping for some sexy outfits (Holly O'Malley talking to her cousin)

Hope is a beautiful and magical thing. Grasp it tight, monsieur, and never let go.

How beautiful it is to replace the world inside us with someone else’s reality. The way we allow someone to look into our deepest fears and desires, our treasured secrets, our worst nightmares and our most beautiful dreams, without any hesitations. The way we give away everything that could destroy us completely to our last bit, and tear us off into uncountable pieces. And yet we sit there, expecting them to carve the most beautiful memories of our life that we could carry to our graves.

How beautiful or handsome you are it doesn't depend on your skin color, body height, weight, age, race, origin & faith. It depends on the level of your confidence, optimism, nimbleness, look and smile. How important you are to people it doesn't depend on your appearance, money, power, family and education. It depends on the level of your honesty, expertise, kindness and love.

How can the heart and mind work together? The mind wants logic and to travel in straight lines, while the heart wants to be free and travel upward in spirals to dizzying heights.

How beautiful it is to have inner peace while knowing that everyone is busy with their own battles in life.

How beautiful it will be if your heart grows only the flowers of love and kindness.

How could such a beautiful man be insecure?

How beautiful it is to feel that what you cannot describe?

How beautiful to be fully alive in the moment?

However beautiful a morning may be, we still must not wish it to continue endlessly, because this shall mean missing forever all the beauties of the night!

How do you love someone and just… walk away? Just like that. You just, go on as normal…. You get up, get dressed, go to work… How can you do that? How can you be okay with that?

How terrible this darkness was, how bewildering, and yet mysteriously beautiful!

How many times did we pass each other before we met? If only I’d known…. I would have searched for you endlessly. If only I’d found you before it was already too late.

How I wish I could undo it all … take it all back… All those years I spent unhappy with him …. when I should have been looking for you.

Hummingbird Flitting, darting A restless quest To fuel a fire That burns your breast Seeking sweetness For selfish glee Bringing gifts So heedlessly Your touch a trigger You fire life Igniting beauty In vibrant strife To equal you In colors bright They dazzle, dumbfound And delight But in tableau Their beauty ends Enlivened only By the wind Whilst you with Generous energy Prove a lovely Vibrant Persephone Their season ends Those blooms of spring And hummingbird On fragile wing Too soon I fear You will expire Sweetness smolders Consumed in fire.

I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.

Aleksei with his impossible curls so very like her own, yet less seemly perhaps. Such hair is somewhat fairy-tale in a man. Poetic.

I always wish there was a portal to an unknown and unseen place from my home and yours too. Where the time would always stay froze and nothing changes ever. Where no other human exists except us and everything is utterly beautiful. Where we can say forever and really mean it and live it every single day.

I am all for science, but science can never tell us why we find the stars so beautiful.

I am beautiful because the kindness of my heart is beautiful. I am strong because my strength is my self-confidence. I am courageous because my knowledge has made me fearless.

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun? I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without. I want to be someone you can’t live without.

I am blessed. I am beautiful. I am great.

I am certain of his existence for he who created such a beautiful world wouldn't leave it unattended, let alone trust us to take care of it.

I am in awe of flowers. Not because of their colors, but because even though they have dirt in their roots, they still grow. They still bloom.