He Says I'm Beautiful Quotes & Sayings

Then," he says, "as my mind got functioning, everything was just beautiful. There was no right or wrong feeling, no social pressure. I believe that's what heaven's going to be like ... "
p 55 — Rachel Simon

But why do you want to talk to me?'
He is going to say: 'Because you look so kind,' or 'Because you look so beautiful and kind,' or, subtly, 'Because you look as if you'll understand ... '
He says: 'Because I think you won't betray me.'
I had meant to get this mean to talk to me and tell me all about it, and then be so devastatingly English that perhaps I should manage to hurt him a little in return for all the many times I've been hurt ... 'Because I think you won't betray me, because I think you won't betray me ... ' Now it won't be so easy. — Jean Rhys

Two buddies are walking home together. As they get to the fork where they part ways, the one turns to the other and says "Man...life sure stinks!". His pal grins and says "I think life is beautiful." From a nearby park bench an old bum overhears them. With a shaky voice from years of experiences he looks up at them... "You're both right." he say's as he turns to the 2nd fellow. "But I'd rather walk with you. — Unknown

Oooo, what is that?" Red yelled when she saw the palace. "That's Buckingham Palace," Alex said. "It's where the monarchy resides." Red was mesmerized. "What a stylish and tasteful place! Look at that beautiful statue out front of it in the middle of the street! That looks exactly like the statue I wanted to build in celebration of Charlie's and my wedding!" Red left the others and flew down to the gate. She peered through the bars at the palace in delight. She had to hang on to the bars tightly because the fairy dust was making her drift back to the sky. One of the palace guards on duty saw Red and stared at her in disbelief. It wasn't every day he saw a floating woman at the gate. "Yoo-hoo!" Red called to him. "I just love your hat! Please tell the current monarch that Queen Red of the Center Kingdom says hello - " Conner flew to the gate and pulled Red's hands off the bars. "Red, come on. You're gonna get left behind! — Chris Colfer

Mia ... Mia you are so goddamn beautiful," he murmurs so low, I almost miss it. He says it like he begrudges that he feels that way. "I hate you ... I fucking hate you," he grumbles in a much clearer voice. — Nina G. Jones

I watch as his hazel-gold eyes take me in from head to toe, and it's so different from the way anyone has ever looked at me. I feel beautiful. I never feel beautiful, but I feel beautiful right now.
When his eyes make their way up to mine again, I see desire in them.
I also see there's a battle going on in his brain.
"Jamie, I'll be 17 tomorrow. Stop thinking of me as that scared freshman."
"I'm definitely not thinking of you that way right now," he says with a smile. — Louise Rozett

Very gently Jacques lowered her feet to the ground, retaining possession of her waist to help her trembling legs hold her up. Shea raised a hand to push back her rain-slick hair. He caught her fingers and raised her palm to his mouth. "You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."
She smiled, shook her head at him. "You're crazy, you know that? This is one of the most magnificent lightning storms I've ever seen, and I didn't even notice until now."
He grinned at her suggestively, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Says something."
"Exactly," she agreed. "You're crazy, and I must be, too. — Christine Feehan

You know how you can think you know someone or think you know them but maybe you only know them one way?" He sneaks a glance at me and I notice that his cheeks are red in the moonlight. "Maybe you know someone as your little sister's friend," he says. "And then maybe something shifts. Maybe one day you hear them say something unexpected. Or hear the way they laugh and then suddenly you see them all over again. Like this time it's different. This time maybe you see them as ... " He pauses. "Beautiful," he finishes. Catcher leans in closer. "Wonderful and funny. — Carrie Ryan

Quick dinner with ... Ang [Lee] and his wife Jane who's visiting with the children for a while. We talked about her work as a microbiologist and the behaviour of the epithingalingie under the influence of cholesterol. She's fascinated by cholesterol. Says it's very beautiful: bright yellow. She says Ang is wholly uninterested. He has no idea what she does.
I check this out for myself. 'What does Jane do?' I ask.
'Science,' he says vaguely. — Emma Thompson

I'm so disgusting,' I try to argue, but his hands and his voice and his marble mother's eyes won't let it be true anymore.
'No,' he says. 'You're beautiful. — E.R. Frank

So. Are you going to tell me where we're going?
Sure.
Yeah?
We're going to the most beautiful place in Paris, he says.
Cool, I say. I love that place.
He laughs and I decide to stop asking. — Jennifer Donnelly

He says he likes reading old letters of famous politicians,writers and in general all kinds of old letters more than reading books. "Letters seem more sincere to me. I don't know, more natural and valuable, since you know, it was meant for just one person, one person only.Some of them are even vulnerable and that's so beautiful." He explains and I get his point. I do... — Melanie Sargsian

"Are you okay?" he says, still looking at me, and I feel my smile slip, fade, and the silence that falls over us then is so total I can't hear anything, not the rush-hiss of my heart pounding in my chest, not the sounds all around us; insects, wind, and the distant clatter of others' lives in houses built close but not too close because when we look out our windows we all like to pretend that everything we see is ours. But Ryan is not mine. — Elizabeth Scott

God, you have a beautiful laugh, and your smile. Jesus, it knocks the breath out of me."
"You can't talk to me like that, nobody says things like that to a woman he just met. It's insane."
"I just did. And I plan to keep saying them until you believe every word. — Maya Banks

I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed. It is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not to be able to tell anyone how good he is; to come suddenly, at the turn of the road, upon some mountain valley of unexpected grandeur and then to have to keep silent because the people with you care for it no more than for a tin can in the ditch; to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with. . . . The Scotch catechism says that man's chief end is 'to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.' But we shall then know that these are the same thing. Fully to enjoy is to glorify. In commanding us to glorify Him, God is inviting us to enjoy Him. — C.S. Lewis

He's staring at me, almost in awe. "What?" I ask him. "Your face." I'm breathing hard, my face hot from orgasm. "What about my face?" "I've just never seen you come before," he says. "It's more beautiful than I thought. — Karina Halle

I still don't know where you came from," he says. "Some days it's like you just fell from the sky."
"Some days I feel like I did." I say. — Lauren DeStefano

I'VE FULFILLED MY end of the bargain, Archangel," says the Pit lord. His burned wings sweep back and forth lazily in the air. "I saved your pitiful Daughter of Man and her family. Now it's your turn." Raffe hovers on his beautiful feathered wings in front of the Pit lord. He nods with a grim expression. "No." The word slips out of my mouth as — Susan Ee

I want to kiss you," I say, "but I seem to be holding this cat."
Skunk lifts his hand and touches it to the side of my face. His fingers are warm from carrying the hot skillet to the table. He regards me very seriously, and for a moment I wonder if he's about to tell me we should Focus on Bicycle Repair. Instead he just looks at me for a very long time.
"You're beautiful," says Skunk, "and completely batshit. — Hilary T. Smith

And then I'm dancing, swept away by the music and the magic and Ryn's arms guiding me. We spin graceful circles around the floor. Ryn lets go of me and I twirl beneath his arm, laughing at the same time. It is so not me, and yet I find I'm actually enjoying it.
"See?" Ryn says, "This is easy. And you might possibly be having fun."
The magic guides me as I step out of Ryn's arms, twirl behind his back, and catch his hand. "You might possibly be right."
He pulls me back into position. "Oh, I forgot to tell you something," he says. He leans forward and his lips brush my ear as he whispers, "You are more beautiful than any other girl in this room. — Rachel Morgan

Ludwig Feuerbach says a wonderful thing about baptism. I have it marked. He says, 'Water is the purest, clearest of liquids; in virtue of this, its natural character, it is the image of the spotless nature of the Divine Spirit. In short, water has a significance in itself, as water; it is on account of its natural quality that it is consecrated and selected as the vehicle of the Holy Spirit. So far there lies at the foundation of Baptism a beautiful, profound natural significance.' Feuerbach is a famous atheist, but he is about as good on the joyful aspects of religion as anybody, and he loves the world. — Marilynne Robinson

You built your walls too, she tells him. So I have my wall. She says it glittering in a beauty he cannot stand. She with her beautiful clothes with her pale face that laughs at everyone who smiles at her ... — Michael Ondaatje

Isn't he beautiful? Hadley says longingly.
Yes, I think, but not in the way she obviously sees him. He's beautiful in the way the apple in the banned book my father read to me ages ago was beautiful to the princess.
Tempting but deadly. — Trisha Wolfe

He says I'm beautiful as a red tomato — Jeanne DuPrau

This is bizarre," I say.
"I think it's beautiful," he says.
I give him a look.
"What?" He laughs a little. "They each have an equal role in government; they each feel equally responsible. And it makes them care; it makes them kind. I think that's beautiful. — Veronica Roth

Arturo Vega: I always thought the ONLY way to really conquer evil is to make love to it. My favourite dream is always the one where I face the devil. I'm in the nude and the devil appears, and he is a beautiful blue. He looks like a mannequin, he looks like a robot. He doesn't have any clothes on, of course, and he's blue and shiny. I keep hearing voices that say, "It's him! It's him!" And I go, "Okay."
So he comes and faces me and I look at him and he's a little taller than me, not much taller, but a little taller, and I say, "I like you." And he says, "I like you too." But he starts beating me up, RA RA RA RA, and I'm down on the floor - and then all of the sudden, he turns into a little baby, like a baby, just a few months old, and then I fuck him, ha ha ha ha. And while I'm fucking him, he's moving his hands, he's moving them like a helpless baby.
So I always thought that to conquer evil, you have to make love to it. You have to understand it. — Legs McNeil

How beautiful to dream. But dreams, I tell Gil, in one of our quiet moments are so damned tiring.
He laughs.
I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired. — Andre Agassi

I want to help you,' I say to Juliet, though I know that I can't make her understand, not like this.
'Don't you get it?' She turns to me, and to my surprise I see she's crying. 'I can't be fixed, do you understand?'
I think of standing on the stairs with Kent and saying exactly the same thing. I think of his beautiful light green eyes, and the way he said, You don't need to be fixed and the warmth of his hands and the softness of his lips. I think of Juliet's mask and how maybe we all feel patched and stitched together and not quite right.
I am not afraid.
Dimly, I have the sense of roaring in my ears and voices so close and faces, white and frightened, emerging from the darkness, but I can't stop staring at Juliet as she's crying, still so beautiful.
'It's too late,' she says.
And I say, 'It's never too late. — Lauren Oliver

I told my mother he looked like a deflated balloon. Greta said he looked like a small gray moth wrapped in a spider's web. That's because everything about Greta is more beautiful, even the way she says things. — Carol Rifka Brunt

I'm not possessive over you, Maddie," he says into my ear. "I'm protective, and there's a difference. I'd never try to control you or tell you what you can and can't do, but I know every guy in this frat house wants to be me right now-especially Kyle. And you know why? It's because you're so fucking beautiful." My breath catches in my throat. "They'll all want you, but I have you, and there's not a chance I'm gonna risk one of them taking you from me, all right? So yes, Angel, yes, you are fucking mine! — Emma Hart

Do you remember when I told you that I sometimes believe that you're not real? That I imagined you just to hurt myself?" Reed says softly with a bitterly self-effacing laugh that has nothing to do with humor. "I know now that you have to be real. This kind of pain cannot exist if you were imaginary," Reed's sexy voice breathes. I feel like I could reach out and touch him, he feels that close to me. "I know you exist, but you're like a sunset to me now - beautiful and so distant that no matter how fast I fly, I cannot reach you. You are always on the next horizon," Reed says sadly, and my breath catches in my throat as an unbelievable ache throbs in my chest. "Tel me where you are. I wil meet you
wherever you are in the world. I wil be there. Just you and me, I swear it. We don't have to endanger anyone else
we'l make sure Buns and Brownie and Zephyr are safe. Just you and me, I promise ... I wil meet you anywhere at anytime ... I wil ... — Amy A. Bartol

I pull my foot back again, but Four's hands clamp around my arms, and he pulls me away from her with irresistible force. I breathe through gritted teeth, staring at Molly's blood-covered face, the color deep and rich and beautiful, in a way. She groans, and I hear a gurgling in her throat, watch blood trickle from her lips. "You won," Four mutters. "Stop." I wipe the sweat from my forehead. He stares at me. His eyes too wide; they look alarmed. "I think you should leave," he says. "Take a walk." I'm fine," I say. "I'm fine now," I say again, this time for myself.
I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did.
I don't. — Veronica Roth

Whoa, whoa!" he says as he sits up in bed. "You're beautiful. There is no ugly now. And I'm sure there was no ugly then. It was only how you felt when you were sick. I can understand that. But I can also assure you that you have never been ugly. There is only beauty here. — Lisa Mondello

Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he's in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn't Satan have made me less beautiful?" I shouted angrily. (an" don't wory enoby isn't a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) "Im good at too many things! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT'S A FUCKING CURSE!" I shouted and then I ran away. — Tara Gilesbie

The ocean is scary ... but it is beautiful," he says into my ear.
He clearly sees something I'm not seeing.
"I guess."
"You stubborn woman." He chuckles, and his hands slide from my waist to the railing, and his front presses against my back. "Terrifying things can be beautiful, you know. Trust me on that one. — Cassie Mae

Lilith," he says, and he sounds so boy next door, so apologetic, that I can hardly even believe he's breaking up with me. [...]
I told you - I told you - that guys like Copeland Park were the most dangerous. The nice ones, the sweet ones, the ones that promise that everything will be okay with a single look. They're the ones that fuck you over the hardest. — C.M. Stunich

says. 'Heaven was made for the likes of us,' he says; 'just for poor working folks like us, that have been sober and godly and kept our Communions regular.' That's the best way, ain't it, Miss Dorothy - poor in this life and rich in the next? Not like some of them rich folks as all their motor-cars and their beautiful houses won't save from the worm that dieth not and the fire that's not quenched. Such a beautiful text, that is. Do you think you could say a little prayer with me, Miss Dorothy? I been looking forward all the morning to a little prayer." Mrs. — George Orwell

They are quiet for a long time. "Do you remember the time you told me you were afraid that you were a series of nasty surprises for me?" he asks him, and Jude nods, slightly. "You aren't," he tells him. "You aren't. But being with you is like being in this fantastic landscape," he continues, slowly. "You think it's one thing, a forest, and then suddenly it changes, and it's a meadow, or a jungle, or cliffs of ice. And they're all beautiful, but they're strange as well, and you don't have a map, and you don't understand how you got from one terrain to the next so abruptly, and you don't know when the next transition will arrive, and you don't have any of the equipment you need. And so you keep walking through, and trying to adjust as you go, but you don't really know what you're doing, and often you make mistakes, bad mistakes. That's sometimes what it feels like." They're silent. "So basically," Jude says at last, "basically, you're saying I'm New Zealand. — Hanya Yanagihara

He studies me thoughtfully. "You are a beautiful queen, Elisa," he says voice pitched low.
I never expected he would say such a thing. "A month or two of pastries will fix that," I say. Then I smile to show him I mean it flippantly.
His expression does not change. "Even then. — Rae Carson

You understand," Silas says quietly - the words are just for me, but I know Scarlett hears - "I'm ... when I'm twenty-eight, Rosie. You know what this means. I'm dangerous, Rosie."
"You plan on loving me when you're twenty-eight?" I interrupt, uncertain if my question is serious or not.
Silas's eyes widen in surprise. He turns to look out the taxi window for a moment, and when his eyes meet mine again, there's a beautiful sincerity glistening in the gray-blue irises. "Rosie ... I love you. Now, when I'm twenty-eight, when I'm thirty-five ... I love you."
I exhale. "Okay, then."
"But I'm - "
I put a finger against his soft, bow-shaped lips. "Okay, then. — Jackson Pearce

The Simi has needs. Lots of needs. I need akri's plastic card, for one thing. It very nice. People give me lots of stuff when I hand it to them. Ooo, I really like the new plastic card he gave me with my own name on it. It blue and all sparkly and it says Simi Parthenopaeus. Doesn't that have a nice ring to it? I have to say it again. Simi Parthenopaeus. I like that a lot. It even has my picture in the corner and I am a very attractive demon if I do say so myself. Akri says it, too. 'Simi, you are beautiful.' I like it when he tells me that. (Simi) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

She's smart and she's funny and she's beautiful and very sexy
"
"She sees me for who I am," Decker interrupted. "And she treats me like a man. Like an equal. Not some hero or ... I don't know what. She's not afraid of me. She says what she thinks, she never pulls her punches and ... I like the way she needs me. I really do. It's clean and ... honest."
"And guilt-free," Sophia added.
He nodded. "Yeah, that's part of it. It's complicated
like every relationship is. but I can relax around her." He searched for the right words. "I feel ... safe when I'm with her. — Suzanne Brockmann

Weed Rises to his feet. "Nature," he says softly, "makes so many beautiful things. But I did not know until you that nature could make a girl so beautiful. — Maryrose Wood

Have I told you today how beautiful you are?" I stand there, taken by surprise at his words. I am speechless so I mutely shake my head. He places his hands at my jaw line while he slowly runs his thumbs over my cheekbones. Then he looks into my eyes and says, "You are the most beautiful thing I keep in my heart.

~Ian — S.M. Stryker

The streak of bleach in my hair is as obvious as ever. Am I really going out in public like this? I push my hair backward and forward a few times - but I can't hide it. Maybe I could walk along with my hand carelessly positioned at my head, as if I'm thinking hard. I attempt a few casual, pensive poses in the mirror.
"Is your head all right?"
I swivel round in shock to see Nathaniel at the open door, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans.
"Er ... fine," I say, my hand still glued to my head. "I was just ... "
Oh, there's no point. I bring my hand down from my hair and Nathaniel regards the streak for a moment.
"It looks nice," he says. "Like a badger."
"A badger?" I say, affronted. "I don't look like a badger."
"Badgers are beautiful creatures," says Nathaniel with a shrug. "I'd rather look like a badger than a stoat. — Sophie Kinsella

Aaaand we have a winnerrrrr!" a man shouts into the mic in a singsong carnival voice as I lick the last of Patrick's ice cream from my fingers. "Pick out a prize for the beautiful girl."
"For you," Patrick says, kneeling in front of me with a moose in his outstretched hands.
I pull the stuffed animal to my chest. "Thank you. I shall love him always. I shall call him Holden Caulfield."
"From the book?"
"Yes, from the book. You were reading it when I saw you my first day here."
"You remember that?"
"It's one of my favorite books," I say.
"You were totally checking me out."
"Patrick! Not in front of Holden Caulfield!" I cover the moose's floppy ears with my hands, hoping neither he nor Patrick sees the red flooding my cheeks. — Sarah Ockler

He can't understand that what I've done was to ensure his safety. He thinks I'm a monster. A burden that he has to endure. A danger to the family. He wants nothing to do with me and avoids me. When he can't avoid me he has a look in his eye that I know well, and the look says, 'Why won't she die? Why won't she just die?' I'm like that room upstairs; he just wants to close the door and forget any of it happened. He wants to close the door so eventually, like our mother, I'll become the beautiful woman that died too young and nothing more. All my sins will be forgotten and hidden, locked away never to be spoken of again — Angelique Jones

There is a story of a hummingbird who lives in a beautiful forest. One day that forest goes up in flames. All the animals watch on in dismay as flames destroy their home. Only the tiny hummingbird tries to stop the fire. Backwards and forwards he flies, with drop after drop of precious water. Feeling helpless, the elephant with his big trunk and the giraffe with his long neck watch the flames in dismay. They stand and do nothing. The hummingbird continues in vain and the animals start to laugh. They laugh at how small he is and how hard he is trying to save the forest that he loves. "What are you doing?" they ask him, "You can't save the forest." He stops, just for a second, to look at all the hopeless animals. He knows that he cannot save the forest but it doesn't matter. "I'm doing the best that I can," he says. — Anonymous

Zack looks at Jenna and slowly pulls off his sunglasses. "Why, hello, beautiful," he says. "I'm Zack." He shows off his dimples. "And you are ... ?"
"Not going to sleep with you," Jenna quips, grinning right back at him.
His smile widens. "Well played. — Chelsea Fine

What did the fish say when it hit a concrete wall?" he asks me. We're sitting on the bank of a stream and he's tying a fly onto my fishing rod, wearing a cowboy hat and a red lumberjack-style flannel shirt over a gray tee. So adorable.
"What?" I say, wanting to laugh and he hasn't even told me the punch line.
He grins. Unbelievable how gorgeous he is. And that he's mine. He loves me and I love him and how rare and beautiful is that?
"Dam!" he says. — Cynthia Hand

My god, Anna," he says. "I almost lost you." He has me in his powerful grip. I've never felt this safe before.
"Never let go," I say, looking into his beautiful gray eyes.
"That could be problematic," he says. "I'll have to let you go at some point. What if I have to pee? What if you have to pee?"
"I don't care," I say.
"What if I have an important business meeting and I'm holding you and we're both covered in urine?"
I start to cry. "You're right," I say, turning my face away from his gaze. "Nothing lasts forever. — Fanny Merkin

Percy and Books
Percy does not like it when I read a book.
He puts his face over the top of it, and moans.
He rolls his eyes, sometimes he sneezes.
The sun is up, he says, and the wind is down.
The tide is out, and the neighbor's dogs are playing.
But Percy, I say, Ideas! The elegance of language!
The insights, the funniness, the beautiful stories
that rise and fall and turn into strength, or courage.
Books? says Percy. I ate one once, and it was enough. Let's go. — Mary Oliver

Quince reaches me, and instead of wrapping me in a hug like I expect, he reaches for my hair. I try to swim back, away from the near-desperate look in his eyes, afraid that he's going to fail the test.
He tugs something from my hair.
I look down and see a Padina antillarum - a beautiful little seaweed shaped like ginkgo leaves - in his hand. And it's glowing.
"You," he says with an explosive grin. "You are the sixteenth object. — Tera Lynn Childs

I'm crying because we're here," he says. "On a beautiful fall day that feels like summer. — Stephen King

The greatest wizard in history made the mistake of sharing his secrets. And his secrets were both magic and important, so it was a rather serious mistake. "He told them to a girl. She was young and clever and beautiful - " Poppet snorts into her cup. Widget stops. "I'm sorry," she says. "Go on, please, Widge." "She was young and clever and beautiful," Widget continues. "Because if the girl had not been beautiful and clever, she would have been easier to resist, and then there would be no story at all. — Erin Morgenstern

For a moment nothing happens. The figure stands still and I stand cold and alive and-
He starts to run. I make my way down the rocks, slipping, sliding, trying to get to the plain. I wish, I think, my feet clumsy, moving too fast, not fast enough, I wish i could run, I wish I'd written a whole poem, I wish I kept the compass-
And then I reach the plain and wish for nothing but what I have. Ky. Running toward me. I have never seen him run like this, fast, free, strong, wild. He looks so beautiful, his body moves so right. He stops just close enough for me to see the blue of his eyes and forget the red on my hands and the green I wish I wore. "You're here," he says, breathing hard and hungry. sweat and dirt cover his face, and he looks at me as though I'm the only thing he ever needed to see. I open my mouth to say yes. But I only have time to breathe in before he closes the last of the distance. All I know is the kiss. — Ally Condie

Holmes and Watson are on a camping trip. In the middle of the night Holmes wakes up and gives Dr. Watson a nudge. "Watson" he says, "look up in the sky and tell me what you see."
"I see millions of stars, Holmes," says Watson.
"And what do you conclude from that, Watson?"
Watson thinks for a moment. "Well," he says, "astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meterologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I see that God is all-powerful, and we are small and insignficant. Uh, what does it tell you, Holmes?"
"Watson, you idiot! Someone has stolen our tent! — Thomas Cathcart

You want to hear something really sad?' I whisper. 'You're my best friend.'
'You're right. That is really sad.' Oliver grins.
'That's not what I meant.'
'Are we still playing True Confessions?' he asks.
'Is that what we're doing?'
He reaches toward me and rubs a strand of my hair between his fingers. 'I think you're beautiful,' Oliver says. 'Inside and out.'
He leans forward from the tiniest bit and breathes in, closing his eyes, before he lets the hair fall back against my cheek. I feel it inside me, as if I've been shocked.
I don't pull away.
I don't want to pull away.
'I ... I don't know what to say,' I stammer.
Oliver's eyes light up. 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walk into mine,' he quotes. He moves slowly, so that I know what's coming, and kisses me. — Jodi Picoult

I have some questions about betrayal," I said. "Think about this: A person who calls you his best friend, and says he has dinner plans with you, goes off with a beautiful woman, saying he'll be back directly, then makes you wait half an hour because he's kissing the woman in the alley. Is that betrayal?"
"Oh, Lord." Eldric tossed back his wine. — Franny Billingsley

And when she's at the door, Mark stops her and he says, "I like you, very much. Just as you are."
It's ridiculous that I love this so much. It's so simple. It's not a witty, perfectly phrased, Ephron-y declaration by our charming, neurotic hero. It's so ... plain. But the idea is the most beautiful thing in the world. So, obviously, it makes me cry. — Mindy Kaling

Isn't it awesome that God's Word says ordinary life can be beautiful? However, there's just one thing - not ten things, not fifteen things - that brings meaning to everything else. Don't set your life up. Don't think, "When I get my family, or my house, or my finances, then I'll have everything set up for me and life will rock!" It will not! It doesn't. The harder you try to set up satisfaction for yourself apart from God, the less you'll have it. Only a central focus on Jesus Christ and all He said and did (and dwelling in His presence) can be the one thing that puts everything else in order. Even when it seems like it's falling apart. — James MacDonald

You're so beautiful to me," he says against my mouth.
I pull back to look him in the eyes. "To you?"
He often says that, and part of me wonders if others have said something contrary to him.
"To me." His fingers trace the curve of my shoulder, brushing a lock of hair over it. "When we're together, it's just you and me. No one else exists. — Kristen Callihan

I swear you can see in Juliet's eyes that she knows she's going to die because of how she feels for this guy.
I think, this scene is where the true tragedy lives. It's not because they both die in the end. The tragedy is all right there ... in the very beginning. When he smiles at her. When she instantly forgets.
Forgets how dangerous he is.
You can't blame her for how it plays out. Romeo's so amazing in this movie - what he says to her - how he looks at her. She's obviously drowning in butterflies.
I know for a fact now, butterflies like that can be horrible, beautiful things. — Anne Eliot

Speaking of 'things,' Mary tells me that Nick is like a keg of dynamite ready to explode at the first spark. She says you're bearing up under the strain marvelously. You've won her wholehearted approval," he added quietly.
"I like her too," Lauren said, her eyes clouding at the mention of Nick.
Jim waited until she had left to go upstairs,then he picked up his telephone and punched four numbers. "Mary, what's the atmosphere like up there this morning?"
"Positively explosive," she chuckled.
"Is Nick going to be in the office this afternoon?"
"Yes,why?"
"Because I've decided to light a match under him and see what happens."
"Jimmy,don't!" she said in a low, sharp voice.
"See you a little before five, beautiful," he laughed, ignoring her wanring. — Judith McNaught

I think you're beautiful," an old man at the counter - one of our Sunday night fixtures - says.
...
"You passed the Earl test," she says as she pours him a fresh cup.
"Ma, he says that to anyone who still has their own teeth. No offense, Earl."
"None taken," he says. "But you got your own hair too, so you're twice as pretty. — Sarah Ockler

Hey, Arnold," he said. I looked up 'in love with a white girl' on Google and found and article about that white girl named Cynthia who disappeared in Mexico last summer. You remember how her face was all over the papers and everybody said it was such a sad thing?"
"I kinda remember," I said.
"Well this article said that over two hundred Mexican girls have disappeared in the last three years in that same part of the country. And nobody says much about that. And that's racist. The guy who wrote the article says people care more about beautiful white girls than they do about everybody else on the planet. White girls are privileged. They're damsels in distress."
So what does that mean?" I asked.
"I think it means you're just a racist asshole like everybody else. — Sherman Alexie

I would like to tell about war and friendship among the various parts of the body, the arms that do battle with the feet, and the veins that make love with the arteries, or the bones with the marrow. All the stories I would like to write persecute me. When I am in my chamber, it seems as if they are all around me, like little devils, and while one tugs at my ear, another tweaks my nose, and each says to me, 'Sir, write me, I am beautiful.' Then I realize that an equally beautiful story can be told, inventing an original duel, for example, a man fighting and convincing his adversary to deny God, then running him through so that he dies damned ... — Umberto Eco

You're beautiful, Sid,' he says, pushing my hair out of my face. 'And I never said it at first because it seemed so obvious to me, so easy. I didn't say it because I never wanted you to think the things I say to you are just things. Empty compliments to get in your pants. I wanted the things I say to you to be extraordinary, because that's what you are to me. Extraordinary. And I'm so sorry I didn't say it sooner, because I think you need to hear it. You were beautiful a year ago and you're beautiful now. — Colleen Clayton

It's okay to want me, you know," Linden says thickly.
My stomach quivers. I manage to shake my head and now his fingers are trailing behind my neck, running into the base of my hair and another shiver escapes down my back.
"Since when is it ever okay to want your best friend?" I say softly, nearly choking on the words. Because that's what he is, that's what he's always been.
He smiled gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Isn't that the best person to want? The person that knows you inside and out. The person who has seen you at your ugliest and most beautiful and still wants to be with you. The person who believes in you and has your back, no matter what. — Karina Halle

Don't leave me," I yell as he walks down the path leading to another life.
Turning and glancing at me over his shoulder, his eyes are no longer gleaming their perfect shade of green; they're cloudy, hazy even. "I'm not," he says as he keeps walking. "You left me, beautiful girl. — Kim Karr

You look beautiful. I'm so happy I finally agreed to go on this date with you." That makes me laugh. "Really? Were you being hounded relentlessly?" "Like you wouldn't believe," he says, raising his eyebrows. "It's been exhausting having to dodge your advances. — Claire Contreras

I've been here for you all along. I've listened to you cry about other guys, I rescue you, take care of you when you're sick, hug you when you're sad, tell you you're beautiful when you look terrible." He looks me straight in the eyes and is dead serious when he says, "Princess, I've always been the one. — Jillian Dodd

I'll never think you're anything other than beautiful."
"You know how to say all the right things," I tell him.
"Because I'm with the right girl," he says against my skin. — Karina Halle

Ky gives me three gifts for my birthday. A poem, a kiss and the hopeless, beautiful belief that things might work.
When I open my eyes ... I say, "I didn't give you anything for your birthday, i don't even know when it is." And he says, "Don't worry about that" and I say, "What can I do?" and he answers, "Let me believe in this, all of this, and you believe it too."
And I do. — Ally Condie

It is this that ruins churches, that you do not seek to hear sermons that touch the heart, but sermons that will delight your ears with their intonation and the structure of their phrases, just as if you were listening to singers and lute-players. And we preachers humor your fancies, instead of trying to crush them. We act like a father who gives a sick child a cake or an ice, or something else that is merely nice to eat
just because he asks for it; and takes no pains to give him what is good for him; and then when the doctors blame him says, 'I could not bear to hear my child cry.' ... That is what we do when we elaborate beautiful sentences, fine combinations and harmonies, to please and not to profit, to be admired and not to instruct, to delight and not to touch you, to go away with your applause in our ears, and not to better your conduct. — John Chrysostom

Beautiful, he says. Fat, I think. But can't I be both at the same time? — Julie Murphy

I think you're beautiful," he says softly.
"Beauty fades," I choke out.
"Not when it comes from inside. — Kristen Callihan

I remember something."
"Yes?"
"You told me once that you were going to break my heart."
He rolls over to face her. "Yes," he says. "I may once have said something like that."
"What happened?"
His beautiful eyes are even more hypnotic up close.
"You broke mine. — Nenia Campbell

His noise is getting quieter, but I can still see it there still-
See how he feels the skin of my hand against his, see how he wants to take it and press it against his mouth, how he wants to breathe in the smell of me and how beautiful I look to him, how strong after all that illness, and how he wants to just lightly touch my neck, just there, and how he wants to take me in his arms and-
"Oh, God," he says, looking away suddenly. "Viola, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
But I just put my hand to the back of his neck-
And he says, "Viola-?"
And I pull myself towards him-
And I kiss him.
And it feels like, finally. — Patrick Ness

I guess the consolation is that she's not going to be beautiful forever," he says. "But I'd like to be with her before that happens. — Bret Easton Ellis

Your soul is the root, its the root of everything. And when He tells you how to handle sex, He made it, its awesome, its beautiful, it has a purpose. And when He tells you how to handle it, there's a reason He says, This is connected to your soul and if you misuse it, your soul will wilt and will waste away. You can use it how you want to because you have the freedom to do that but in the end I'm telling you how to have the life to the fullest. — Lacey Mosley

What are you doing?" I whisper, not at all surprised when he doesn't answer my question. He keeps up drawing patterns for a few minutes, nearly lulling me to sleep, before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss between my shoulder blades. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me onto my side toward him, my back flat against his warm chest."I was connecting the dots," he says quietly. "Your freckles are like stars. They tell a story, depending on how you connect them."I smile to myself as he takes my hand, linking our fingers together. "What did they tell you?""They told me you're beautiful," he says. "And I'm a lucky son of a bitch to have you all to myself. — J.M. Darhower

It's the most beautiful thing in the world." he says, "I just ... " He pauses and looks back into the fire. "I just kept walking. Wrapped in this white nothingness. — Carrie Ryan

I get so pissed off whenever someone looks at you wrong. Or says the wrong thing to you. Or posts pictures all over your locker. Or if they smile at you. Or call you beautiful. Or ... anything!" He released a breath and took a deep inhale. "Anything they do to hurt you or make you smile makes me want to attack." He exhaled. "And that doesn't really make for great ethics. — Brittainy C. Cherry

I still can't believe it's really you," he murmurs, running his fingers down my cheek. "This face...it's yours, isn't it?"
"The one I was born with," I admit, heat rising under my skin as I feel a surge of shyness. I look down at my hands. "Do you...like it?"
"Zahra."
I can't help but lift my gaze at the warmth in his tone. His eyes are shining, his lips slanted in a small smile.
"You're beautiful," he says. "I mean, you were beautiful before, of course, but knowing that this is the real you...I didn't think I could love you more, but I do. — Jessica Khoury

May 27, 1941
Sunday we encountered specimens of the rarely appearing yellow lady's slipper. This orchis is fragilely beautiful. One tends to think of it almost as a phenomenon, without any roots or place in the natural world. And yet it, too, has had its tough old ancestors which have eluded fires and drought and freezes to pass on in this lovely form the boon of existence. If a plant so delicately lovely can at the same time be so toughly persistent and resistant to all natural enemies, can we doubt that hopes for a better an more rational world may not also withstand all assaults, be bequeathed from generation to generation, and come ultimately to flower?
President Roosevelt says he has not lost faith in democracy; nor have I lost faith in the transcendent potentialities of LIFE itself. One has but to look about him to become almost wildly imbued with something of the massive, surging vitality of the earth. — Harvey Broome

He laughs with relief. "Yes." The word yes is so much more beautiful coming from his mouth, laced with that voice. He could probably make any word beautiful. I try to think of a word I hate. I kind of hate the word ox. It's an ugly word. Too short and clipped. I wonder if his voice could make me love that word. "Say the word ox." His eyebrow rises, like he's wondering if he heard me right. He thinks I'm weird. I don't care. "Just say it," I tell him. "Ox," he says, with slight hesitation. I smile. I love the word ox. It's my new favorite word. — Colleen Hoover

I thought you weren't allowed to have a phone," he says. "Or was that a really pathetic excuse to avoid giving me your number?"
"I'm not allowed. My best friend gave it to me the other day. It can't do anything but text." He turns the screen around to face me. "What the hell kind
of texts are these?" He turns the phone around and reads one.
"Sky, you are beautiful. You are possibly the most exquisite creature in the universe and if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll cut a bitch." He arches
an eyebrow and looks up at me, then back down to the phone. "Oh, God. They're all like this. Please tell me you don't text these to yourself for daily
motivation. — Colleen Hoover

I am penitent," says Vohannes. "I am penitent for all the relationships this shame has ruined. I am penitent that I've allowed my shame and unhappiness to spread to others. I've fucked men and I've fucked women, Father Kolkan. I have sucked numerous pricks, and I have had my prick sucked my numerous people. I have fucked and been fucked. And it was lovely, really lovely. I had an excellent time doing it, and I would gladly do it again. I really would." He laughs. "I have been lucky enough to find and meet and come to hold beautiful people in my arms - honestly, some beautiful, lovely, brilliant people - and I am filled with regret that my awful self-hate drove them away. — Robert Jackson Bennett

Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him. "Well, you know a lot more about me now," he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. "I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!" He says it like it's a really dirty word. "Hell, Ana, I just showed you ... " he groans. "May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?" "Of course I have." I try my best to look affronted. Okay ... maybe twice. "And a nice young man hasn't swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful." He runs his hand through his hair again. Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. — E.L. James

I eat some crisps while I think about my question. "Would you rather have your knob chopped off or your tongue?"

"Bloody hell, Ariel," he says. "Can't you ask one normal question?"

I shrug. "Answer it."

"Tongue," he says.

I laugh. "Really? You'd rather never speak a single word ever again, never tell your wife you love her, never tell your children that you think they're beautiful, all so you could get your end away?"

He nods. "I wouldn't get a wife or a child if I didn't have a knob."

"You'd still have balls and sperm," I say. "You could still father a child."

He shakes his head. "I'd want my knob. — Beckie Stevenson

It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn't sentimental, doesn't say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don't seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble hopes and impulses and purposes, and am so proud to know it's mine. He says he feels as if he 'could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.' I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be when two people love and live for one another! — Louisa May Alcott

In Murakami's short story 'The Kidney-Shaped Stone That Moves Every Day,' the main character is a writer. In describing the act of writing to a tightrope walker, he says, 'What a writer is *supposed* to do is observe and observe and observe again, and put off making judgments to the last possible moment.' I think that is a beautiful description of writing; it lets the world be, but also there is a moment, finally, of some kind of opinion. There is that moment, but to hold it off is a lovely and worthwhile goal. — Aimee Bender

God reminded me how beautiful we all are to Him, after all, we were created in His own image, and He looks at me, at you, in all our sweat and dirt and brokenness, and says, I choose you. You are beautiful. — Katie J. Davis

Her heart
is given him, with all its love and truth. She would joyfully die with him, or better than that, die for him. She knows he has failings, but she thinks they have grown up through his being like one cast away, for the want of something to trust in, and care for, and think well of. And she says, that lady rich and beautiful that I can never come near, 'Only put me in that empty place, only try how little I mind myself, only prove what a world of things I will do and bear for you, and I hope that you might even come to be so much better than you are, through me who am so much worse, and hardly worth the thinking of beside you. — Charles Dickens

Come back to me." He laughs. It is not forced; it is the laugh of a happy man, confident in his luck and his abilities. "I will," he says. "Trust me. You have married a man who is going to die in his bed, preferably after making love to the most beautiful woman in England." He holds out his arms and I step towards him and feel the warmth of his embrace. "Make sure you do," I say. "And I will make sure that the most beautiful woman in your eyes is always me. — Philippa Gregory

But, careful! Jesus does not say, Go off and do things on your own. No! That is not what he is saying. Jesus says, Go, for I am with you! This is what is so beautiful for us; it is what guides us. If we go out to bring his Gospel with love, with a true apostolic spirit, with parrhesia, he walks with us, he goes ahead of us, and he gets there first. As we say in Spanish, nos primerea. By now you know what I mean by this. It is the same thing that the Bible tells us. In the Bible, the Lord says: I am like the flower of the almond. Why? Because that is the first flower to blossom in the spring. He is always the first! This is fundamental for us: God is always ahead of us! When we think about going far away, to an extreme outskirt, we may be a bit afraid, but in fact God is already there. Jesus is waiting for us in the hearts of our brothers and sisters, in their wounded bodies, in their hardships, in their lack of faith. — Pope Francis

You look beautiful," Alodia says.
I startle at the compliment. Then I smile. "I'm beautiful to the one person who matters."
She nods. "Hector's mouth is going to drop open when he sees you."
"I hope so. But I meant me. I'm beautiful to me. — Rae Carson

A Book of Glass
On the table, a book of glass. In the book only a few pages with no words But scratched in a diamond-point pencil to pieces in diagonal Spirals, light triangles; and a French curve fractures lines to
elisions.

The last pages are simplest. They can be read backwards and
thoroughly. Each page bends a bit like ludicrous plastic. He who wrote it was very ambitious, fed up, and finished. He had been teaching the insides and outsides of things

To children, teaching the art of Rembrandt to them. His two wives were beautiful and Death begins As a beggar beside them. What is an abstract persona? A painter visits but he prefers to look at perfume in vials.

And I see a book in glass - the words go off In wild loops without words. I should Wake and render them! In bed, Mother says each child Will receive the book of etchings, but the book will be
incomplete, after all.
But I will make the book of glass. — David Shapiro

Why do you look?" I mutter.
I half expect Magiano to tease me, spitting back one of his sarcastic phrases. But he doesn't smile. "We are drawn to stories," he says in a soft voice, "and every scar carries one." He lifts a hand and places his palm gently against the ruined side of my face, covering the scar.
I look down, embarrassed now. Instinctively, I reach up to brush some of my hair over my face - only to remember that I no longer have long locks.
"Hiding it makes you more beautiful," Magiano says. Then he takes his hand away, exposing my scar again. "But revealing it makes you you." He nods at me. "So wear it proudly. — Marie Lu