Chiseled Face Quotes & Sayings

It's funny - I read that women look to chiseled-faced guys for one-night stands, and to round-faced guys for marriage. When I'm rounder in the face, I like to say, 'This is my long-term look.' Or 'This is my wife-and-kids look right here.' — Garrett Hedlund

Acting and making art is just something I love to do, and I love to tell stories that feel important, honest and necessary. — Zoe Kravitz

She was about twenty-four, Rosemary guessed - her face could have been described in terms of conventional prettiness, but the effect was that it had been made first on the heroic scale with strong structure and marking, as if the features and vividness of brow and coloring, everything we associate with temperament and character had been molded with a Rodinesque intention, and then chiseled away in the direction of prettiness to a point where a single slip would have irreparably diminished its force and quality. With the mouth the sculptor had taken desperate chances - it was the cupid's bow of a magazine cover, yet it shared the distinction of the rest. — F Scott Fitzgerald

Plenty of church members are shaky about what they believe, while not many are shaken by what they believe. — Vance Havner

They'd bitten her the little monsters. And now they were sitting on the floor and composedly licking the blood off their chops. A surge of violent revulsion passed through Cassie.
From the doorway Faye chuckled.
Maybe theyre not getting all their vitamins and minerals from the kitten chow she said. — L.J.Smith

Snuggle up with a hot fireman! Meet Tanner West.
Sharon looked up into the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. Eyes like dark chocolate, deep and warm, stared out at her from a face that looked like it could have been chiseled in stone. Skin the color of burnished copper, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, full lips, and a cleft chin. How the hell had she failed to notice him before? Her heart skipped a beat and she ran her gaze down the rest of his body. He was tall, well over six feet, she would guess, with broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His thighs, encased in worn denim, fit like a second skin against legs the size of tree trunks, and oh my, what lay between those thighs ... Her attention snapped back to his face and she could feel the heat of a blush suffuse her skin. — Tamara Hoffa

His hands came up to my head, around my cheek and under my hair.
His handsome face was no longer chiseled in stone, but open and naked and raw. "I love you. I'm in love with you and I will be for the rest of my life. — Emma Scott

He had a ruggedness about him that was appealing. Despite his groomed presentation, his chiseled face was shadowed with an attractive scruff of hair. His beautiful smile burned into me, melting me from the inside out while it exposed perfect white teeth embellished with alluring fangs. For a moment, I allowed myself to indulge in the idea of them sinking into my neck. Would it provoke the ecstasy I imagined or the horror I feared? — J.M. Northup

He sat with his arm still around her, watching her face and smiling as she fumbled with the elegant gold wrapping, her agile fingers suddenly clumsy. She lifted the lid off and stared speechlessly at the simple pendant that lay on satin lining like a cobweb of gold. A dark red heart, chiseled and planed, was attached to the chain.
"That's a ruby," she stammered.
"No," he corrected gently, lifting it from the box and placing it around her neck. "That's my heart." The chain was long, and the ruby heart slid down her chest to nestle between her breasts, gleaming with dark fire as it lay against her honeyed skin.
"Wear that forever," he murmured his eyes on the lush curves that his gift used as a pillow.
"And my heart will always be touching yours. — Linda Howard

Maids want nothing but husbands, and when they have them, they want everything. — William Shakespeare

Because sometimes I find myself talking about God so much He becomes more of an identity marker than an identity changer in my life. Having God as an identity marker reduces Him to nothing more than a label, a lingo, & a lifestyle
I'm a Christian so I talk like one & act like one. But having God as an identity changer is much, much more. It means I am no longer the person I was before, someone who comes unglued at minor things. I am making imperfect progress. Shifting, breaking away, & being chiseled. I am a woman whose identity has been changed by coming face to face with the One who has the power to completely transform me. — Lysa TerKeurst

You forgot to cough!" he said.
"Sorry." She coughed.
"Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head."
"Now, Peder, there's plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face."
He stroked his chin. "You're right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection."
She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud. — Shannon Hale

All mockery fled that compelling face with its chiseled jaw and arrogant nose. "What's wrong?" What was wrong was that all of a sudden she realized that Lord Lyle posed a genuine threat. Something at her deepest level insisted that physically she was safe - perhaps his kindness to his horse and her dog, or that moment when he'd given her his coat despite being soaked and frozen himself - as far as she wanted to be. But how safe did she want to be? That was the niggling question she couldn't answer. — Anna Campbell

My eyes moved over his face. His chiseled jaw and high cheekbones twisted in agony. Even writhing he was beautiful, muscles clenching and unclenching, revealing his strenght, his body's fight against its impending collapse, rendering his torture sublime. Desire to help him consumed me.
I can't watch him die. — Andrea Cremer

He looks way too comfortable sitting there on my couch. A blond Adonis with his golden chest and sculpted muscles and perfectly chiseled face. If the hockey thing doesn't work out for him, he ought to consider going into modeling. Dean Di Laurentis oozes sexuality. He could slap his face on a laxative label and every woman in the world would be praying for constipation just to have an excuse to buy it. — Elle Kennedy

Food is exacting. The face is truly a canvas upon which our food choices paint an accurate picture. The body is truly a sculpture, chiseled and polished by our food choices. — David Wolfe

Every central banker in the world pays attention to credit growth, but not in the U.S. — Marc Faber

But that was just a shadow of what would come to pass:
When one appointed season Christ came to die at last.
And in the name of justice they flogged him like a thief,
But willing was the victim of human disbelief. — Joyce Rachelle

He pressed the blade of his sword into the ground. As he pulled his arm over his head for a stretch, a bead of sweat trickled down his neck and over a row of muscles on his stomach. I swallowed hard. The window's edge dug into my skin but I refused to move an inch. The tiny droplet disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. I had seen plenty of guys in gym class with their shirts off, but none of them looked like...that. He was physical perfection - a living work of art.

I sat on my knees with my chin relaxed on my crossed arms, unable to look away.

"Enjoying the view?" he said, eyes suddenly on me. His chiseled face wore an overly confident grin. Clearly he was used to being admired.

My cheeks burned.

I stood, pretending to check out the scenery. "Not much to see."

He raised an eyebrow, letting me know he knew I was full of crap. — Stacey O'Neale

Will paused for a moment and then grinned, that rare grin of his that lit up his face and changed the whole nature of it. It was a smile Tessa had worried once was gone forever, gone with Jem down into the darkness of the Silent City. Jem was not dead, but some bit of Will had gone with him when he'd left, some bit chiseled out of Will's heart and buried down there among the whispering bones. And Tessa had worried, for that first week just after, that Will would not recover, that he would always be a sort of ghost, wandering about the Institute, not eating, always turning to speak to someone who was not there, the light in his face dying as he remembered and fell silent. — Cassandra Clare

The biggest barrier to dealing with climate change is us: our own attachment to habits that are hard to shift, and our great ability to park or ignore uncomfortable choices. — Geoff Mulgan

I got through so much ink in the learning that the inkseller took to knocking at least once a week on the garden door. He had a gray solemn face that looked as if it was chiseled out of stone; he was stooped down like the letter C, as if he were Atlas carrying the weight of the world in his wooden barrel of ink. Maybe he did. I have learned that there is great power in words, no matter how long or short they be. — Sally Gardner

Hey, suit guy! The man bellowed.
Chris bit back the urge to yell. He turned, expecting to be confronted by a hand held out for money. What he saw was a pair of enormous eyes, the same color as the spring sky, set in a face with high cheekbones and a delicate chiseled jaw. The man's short, spiked hair was dyed a vibrant purple, making his creamy pale skin glow. Letting his gaze shift downward in a sudden still silence, Chris took in the sleek, sculpted muscles under the snug green t-shirt, the faded jeans molded to slim hips and thighs.
He'd never in his life's seen anyone so beautiful. — Ally Blue

A youth loathes nothing more than his own callowness. Experience is his object. Experience, however ghastly, for the lad longs before all for the lined face and chiseled squint of the veteran. Even his submissions to terror, the very shit with which he paints his thighs under fire is trophy to him; he points it out to his comrades, laughing in the aftercourse of action as if it were a decoration for valour, for it makes him a salt, a veteran, an old hand. — Steven Pressfield

Another angel has snuck up on me. His wings are golden and his face chiseled, but he looks at me with the cold eyes of a killer. Before I can figure out what to do, snowy wings blot out the angel. It's Raffe. And he has two of his Watchers backing him up. — Susan Ee

Talk therapy turns hysterical misery to mundane unhappiness. — Sigmund Freud

Logan looks up, registers my face and smiles immediately. I hold onto the back of a chair to steady my legs. Jeez, he's got a nice smile; dimples appear in his chiseled cheeks and there is familiarity and warmth in his eyes. Real warmth, the likes of which I've not often seen. It suddenly strikes me that this man, whoever he might turn out to be, is genuine. — Annabel Fanning

I walk over to Teren, then bend down so that my gaze meets his. I watch the rain pour down his face. When was the first time I saw this face? When I was chained to the stake, of course, and he had come over to bend down before me. How poised he had been, then, with his handsome, chiseled face and his mad, pulsing eyes. I smile, realizing that we have switched places now. — Marie Lu

Without her glasses Vivian did look a little frightening. She had tight sinewy strappy muscles and a face that was hardened and almost brutal - a face that might have been chiseled by a sculptor who had fallen out of love with the idea of beauty. — Brian Morton

She had thought, instinctively, that Victoria had a remarkably beautiful face. The face showed an alert awareness of life: her lips- full, overblown like clown-lips liable to laugh at the slightest provocation. She thought that her features were not chiseled but almost rugged, handsome, like a colloquial swear-word or a Vermeer peasant-girl, and a knock out at that. An overdone face, like one having two chins, two noses, that was big and abundantly cheerful but at the same time, there was a peculiarly puffy look about those eyes.'
('Left from Dhakeshwari') — Kunal Sen

I don't aim to offend. — Billy Connolly

I've come to the conclusion that I'm not supposed to be married. — Gregg Allman

The door to the courtroom burst open and Lancelot swept in. Dressed in a full suit of armour, the idiot looked like an idiot. His idiot blond hair and idiot chiseled jaw line further contributed to his idiocy. The idiot cleft on his too pretty face and the idiot swagger to his too swaggering proclaimed to anyone that he was the biggest idiot in the kingdom. And, given that the Northlands was full to bursting with idiots, that was quite a feat of idiocy. — Cassandra Gannon