Quotes About Beautiful Things Novels & Stories

Flashback Part 3 Ella Victoria Everette's Point of View I'm getting too used to when someone was telling me that I'm so beautiful. I mean, all of us are beautiful in our own way. I don’t know but when someone tells me that I'm beautiful, it hits different. But always remember that a person's beauty depends not only on their appearance but also on their heart. In my case, I was beautiful inside and out. Well, I'm just saying that we are beautiful in our own way.

He’s taking a shower like what he always do. Waiting for him to finish, I stared at myself and smiled. I am beautiful, I know. People tend to believe that beauty is an advantage, but they didn’t know that it’s also a burden sometimes. My physical and inner beauty wasn’t enough to let the people I love stay. The hell! I wouldn’t beg for it no more.

She scowled, not appreciating his gesture and zeroing her gaze at him in a cold glare as she let out a small scoff from her lips. " I don't plan on looking like a clown today." "Oh you don't look like one. Besides, clowns make somethings beautiful, like beautiful jokes." he replied and she sneered. "You're one of those delusional individuals who think everyone who smiles actually have something beautiful within them?" "It's not being delusional it's a free healthy tip.” She gave a him small wistful laugh, running her eyes at him like he had lost his sense. "Smiles aren't all there is to make something look beautiful, that's a delusional thinking. Moreover, I don't need healthy tips. It's pa

She asked out of the blue which made my heart skip a beat. "No, but that's good to know that I'm not the only one who falls in love over and over again," I wrapped my arm on her shoulder then kissed the side of her head. "Love is f*cking crazy," I muttered. "Yeah, it makes us do stupid things." She responded. The moon is full of imperfections but it's still beautiful and a pleasure to watch. It has beauty and elegance without reason. Like the moon, we should be calm and reflect beauty despite being imperfect in appearance. We should shine in the darkness of life and give way to the path of light.

"I still have all her things-her dinner gowns and shoes and beaded handbags." "Do you use them?" "Not often. I don't have occasion to." His gaze scoured her face, meandered down her throat to her shoulders, and it took all her self-control not to shrink into the concealing folds of her shawl. "What a waste," he murmured. "A woman as beautiful as you should always wear beautiful things." "My mother was the beauty, not I." "You think?"

The thought was both comforting and disturbing—comforting because it implied survival was possible, disturbing because it raised questions about what had happened to those who came before me. "I found it beautiful," I said honestly. "Strange, certainly, but beautiful nonetheless." Beautiful. Like the man standing before me, radiating power and danger in equal measure while maintaining the facade of civilized courtesy. Beautiful like a blade that caught light while it cut. Kieran's smile deepened, and for the first time since he'd appeared, it reached his eyes. "Beauty," he said softly, "is not always safe to appreciate." The words carried weight beyond their literal meaning—a warning, perhap

Like he’s trying to see how far I’ll let him go. “I wear them because they’re comfortable,” I lie. “You wear them because people underestimate you in them.” Touché. He traces the line of my jaw, slow and careful. “You’re not like anyone I’ve met,” he whispers. “Good different or bad different?” He smiles. “Terrifying different.” “I’ll take it.” “But you’re also…” He stops, like the words won’t come. “Also what?” “Beautiful,” he says finally. “Not the fake kind. Not the made-up kind. Just… fuck. You’re the kind of beautiful that makes people ruin things.”

All that glitters, offers to the soul Its scent or color; If God had not made woman, He wouldn't have made the flower. What good are your sparks, Sapphire blue, without the soft eyes? The diamonds, without the beautiful ones, Are nothing more than pebbles; And, in the green arbors, The roses sleep upright, And are open mouths To say nothing at all. Any object that charms or dreams Gets its clarity from women; The white pearl, without Eve, Without you, my proud beauty, Resembling, all ugly, To my love that flees from you,

It was suicidal. “And how exactly are you not allowing it when you’re about to die because of your stupidity?” I shot back. Her expression froze. “If you were going to do something illegal, then at least don’t get caught,” I added, shaking my head. “And besides,” I continued. “A woman’s beauty isn’t just about makeup or beauty products. That’s not the only thing that makes someone attractive.” I looked her straight in the eye. “There’s nothing wrong with using those things, okay? No shame in wanting to look good. But if you’re risking your life just to get your hands on them... if you’re nearly dying for it…”

“In the eighth paragraph, you used ordinary words to describe how uniquely special you are. You wrote, ‘the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched.’ Mad, you’re too good for them. They don’t deserve you. Isn’t that obvious?” “Those were Helen Keller’s words. I borrowed them for the project,” she pouts quietly. “Fuck it, what matters is that you believed it. You are the most captivating luxury in this life. What does it matter if you’re not perceptible to the eyes of the undeserving? Luxury isn’t meager, so it’s not meant for the inferior. God, no hand is qualifiedly noble—hell, honorable enough—to touch you.” I will protect her to my last breath if I have