Did I Ever Tell You How Beautiful You Are Quotes & Sayings

You may have noticed that people in bus stations, if they know you also are alone, will glance at you sidelong, with a look that is both piercing and intimate, and if you let them sit beside you, they will tell you long lies about numerous children who are all gone now, and mothers who were beautiful and cruel, and in every case they will tell you that they were abandoned, disappointed, or betrayed--that they should not be alone, that only remarkable events, of the kind one reads in a book, could have made their condition so extreme. And that is why, even if the things they say are true, they have the quick eyes and active hands and the passion for meticulous elaboration of people who know they are lying. Because, once alone, it is impossible to believe that one could ever been otherwise. Loneliness is absolute discovery. — Marilynne Robinson

I hate to tell you this," she said with an apologetic smile, "but I don't think you're as special as you think you are."
"That only hurts because it's true. You really like me? A little?"
"Un peu. Enough that I want to talk to you instead of letting me fuck you," she said.
"Oh," he said, and weighed his words. "But we are still going to fuck, right?"
Juliette smiled again. And in her flawless elegant Frenchy she purred two beautiful words.
"Bien sur."
Of course. — Tiffany Reisz

They can romanticize us so, mirrors, and that is their secret: what a subtle torture it would be to destroy all the mirrors in the world: where then could we look for reassurerance of our identities? I tell you, my dear, Narcissus was so egotist ... he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the beautiful comrade, the only inseparatable love ... poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point. — Truman Capote

Sonny Boy Williamson (II) was a beautiful guy, a straight guy ... (but) he was always raising hell one way or another, so you never could tell if he was drunk or sober. — Willie Dixon

December 26, 7:40 p.m.
Dear America,
I've been thinking of our first kiss. I suppose I should say first kisses, but what I mean is the second, the one I was actually invited to give you. Did I ever tell you how I felt that night? It wasn't just getting my first kiss ever; it was getting to have that first kiss with you. I've seen so much, America, had access to the corners of our planet. But never have I come across anything so painfully beautiful as that kiss. I wish it was something I could catch with a net or place in a book. I wish it was something I could save and share with the world so I could tell the universe: this is what it's like; this is how it feels when you fall.
These letters are so embarrassing. I'll have to burn them before you get home.
Maxon — Kiera Cass

I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell — Walt Whitman

The fabric of Lady Islay's gown certainly cost as much as Claribel's entire quarterly allowance. It was a pearly silk taffeta shot with threads of silver. Her breasts were scarcely covered, and from there the gown fell straight to the ground in a hauntingly beautiful sweep of cloth.
The pink brought out the color of her hair- burnt amber enticed with brandy and buttercup. If only she had left it free around her face and perhaps created some charming curls! Claribel made up her mind to tell her privately about the newest curling irons. She herself had lovely corkscrew curls bobbing next to her ears. — Eloisa James

I grew up hearing everyone tell me 'God loves you'. I would say big deal, God loves everybody. That don't make me special! That just proves that God ain't got no taste. And, I don't think He does. Thank God! Because He takes the junk of our lives and makes the most beautiful art. — Rich Mullins

You usually get one or the other, you get someone who knows how to tell a story but they don't necessarily know about light and camera and rhythm, or you get someone who can make beautiful images but they can't necessarily tell a great story. He[Mark Webb] does both and I think he's going to be one of the film-makers that our time is remembered for. — Joseph Gordon-Levitt

The fire in the evening was the best of all. Peter said is wasn't fie, but he couldn't tell me what it really was. You can thought, Grandfather, can't you?'
'It's the sun's way of saying goodnight to the mountains' he explained. 'He spreads that beautiful light over them so that they won't forget him till he comes back in the morning. — Joanna Spyri

Her mother would tell her she was beautiful and that everything was all right. — Sarah Addison Allen

To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way. — June Jordan

His mouth was a little too wide and snaked from corner to corner. His nose had been broken a few times, and when you looked at him straight on like I was doing as I stared at him across the circle bar, you could really tell. But his eyes were beautiful, cunning and otherworldly. His hair was a controlled mess; wispy dark strands that swooped across his forehead with long sideburns. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline. When you combined all the parts, they equaled so much more than the sum. He was exotically, dangerously beautiful.
He'd been mine once. He'd broken my heart once.
And he was here to kill me. He only needed to do that once, too. — Karina Halle

I've tried to prepare my daughter for the phenomenon I've experienced of beautiful young women being dismissed and devalued as interchangeable. I tell Rachel that if a relationship doesn't make you feel good about yourself as an individual, then it's not right. My grandmother told me once years ago that if you're ever with somebody who you find embarrasses you in public or private, you're with the wrong person. Walk away. — Kathleen Turner

The hardest thing to teach young writers is that it's wonderful to tell your truth. And that's what you should do. But it damn well better be beautiful. — Dorothy Allison

Don't tell me you're not beautiful. You're the kind of beautiful the blind would see if we could figure out some way to give them three seconds of sight. — Shane Koyczan

We can use music as a tool to overcome things. It was a beautiful age and realization for me, an awakening. I felt like my eyes were opened. It was like, you mean to tell me that I have the opportunity when I'm bottling stuff up, wanting to smash windows and breaking down walls, I can put that energy into a song and wake up the next day with that weight lifted? — Chuck Ragan

[E]verything is fiction. When you tell yourself the story of your life, the story of your day, you edit and rewrite and weave a narrative out of a collection of random experiences and events. Your conversations are fiction. Your friends and loved ones - they are characters you have created. And your arguments with them are like meetings with an editor - please, they beseech you, you beseech them, rewrite me. You have a perception of the way things are, and you impose it on your memory, and in this way you think, in the same way that I think, that you are living something that is describable. When of course, what we actually live, what we actually experience - with our senses and our nerves - is a vast, absurd, beautiful, ridiculous chaos. — Keith Ridgway

You were this perfect, enchantingly beautiful girl that made the world brighter just by being in it, and you were ours. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I drove you away. — R.K. Lilley

Beautiful memories tell our story, and wrap themselves in ribbons of the heart. — Flavia Cacace

I didn't tell you how beautiful he is so you could fall in love with him. I told you so you could appreciate that I'm in love with him. — Marianne Maughan

That was my first kiss ... like, ever."
"That was your first kiss?"
"You couldn't tell?" My eyes widened in utter surprise.
"You seemed nervous, yeah. But I had no idea," he said with a laugh. "Is it a total guy move if I think that's pretty awesome?"
"That you were my first kiss? Why?" I smiled, the tension lessening with each laugh that came from his beautiful mouth. He squeezed my hand in his.
"Because I'm planning to be your last. — Melissa Brown

If you want to transform yourself into an upbeat, positive, energetic, and passionate human being, you can - by becoming what you say you are. Say that you're happy. Say that you're beautiful. Say that you can do whatever you need to do, whether it's losing weight or exercising more. Tell yourself you are what you want to become and you will become it. Then practice it. — Dolvett Quince

Having your beautiful woman free and uncovered, for all to see, with everyone knowing that she's with who she chooses - you - and that no one else, no matter how much they want her or lust for her, can lay a finger on her." He focussed on Mae. "Tell Hansen what you studied in school."
She wasn't expecting the question and presumed he wasn't talking about her military training. "Music," she said.
Hansen, however, was one step behind. "You went to school?"
"All our women do," said Justin. "They can learn what they want, take on what professions they want, and be with the men they want. We don't cover them up either. We let them show off their beauty. And we don't let men who are full of themselves crush others who've done the work. A man who serves gets his rewards. They aren't snatched up by others. — Richelle Mead

Every day I strive to get to a place where I'm not effected by the external world, and I don't use the external world to define or tell me who I am. I strive for a state of equanimity and calm and a state of grace, so I can be free of definitions. If you are free, then you can create beautiful things. It's really just shutting out the noise. — Laurel Holloman

Your paintings are staggeringly beautiful. Did I ever tell you that,or was I just too concerned that you weren't going to earn a living? I know the answer ... I worried that the paint was so thickly applied that it might snap off and ruin someone's carpet, rather than realizing that you'd made color itself tactile. — Rosamund Lupton

Black people don't know what white people are talking about when they talk about a Sister Souljah moment. I tell them it's the moment you meet a proud, beautiful black woman you can never forget. — Sister Souljah

And what I said was I'll miss you,
What I meant to say was that I love you,
What I wanted to say was that I meant what I said
I miss you like I miss my own bed
after too many nights of sleeping on couches
or hardwood floors
Or sitting silently behind the doors
Of hotel rooms became wounds
Breathing life in to this loneliness
I miss you
Like a burn victim must miss their own skin
I miss you like a sad ending
Must miss someplace new to begin
Because some say that the highway becomes a flat line
if you travel it for too long
I can't tell if that's true or false,
But I'm racing down it towards you trying to find my
Pulse. — Shane Koyczan

The chef turned back to the housekeeper. "Why is there doubt about the relations between Monsieur and Madame Rutledge?"
The sheets," she said succinctly.
Jake nearly choked on his pastry. "You have the housemaids spying on them?" he asked around a mouthful of custard and cream.
Not at all," the housekeeper said defensively. "It's only that we have vigilant maids who tell me everything. And even if they didn't, one hardly needs great powers of observation to see that they do not behave like a married couple."
The chef looked deeply concerned. "You think there's a problem with his carrot?"
Watercress, carrot - is everything food to you?" Jake demanded.
The chef shrugged. "Oui."
Well," Jake said testily, "there is a string of Rutledge's past mistresses who would undoubtedly testify there is nothing wrong with his carrot."
Alors, he is a virile man ... she is a beautiful woman ... why are they not making salad together? — Lisa Kleypas

I want to devour you with my eyes, and tell you over and over that you've never been so beautiful. — Alain Delon

Poor Amy. I could tell she was suffering. Poor Thing. Life was so tough for the rich, beautiful and magical. — Elizabeth A. Reeves

My God, he whispered. What have I done to her? He thought, humbled. The spell was broken, but it wasn't sealed, and her soul was bare to him, the scars of her tragic past and her triumphs over pain and her aching need to find her place. He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful. — Kim Harrison