Simply Beautiful Me Quotes & Sayings

It's sad, I see women continuously destroy themselves in seek of approval. A man with no good intentions to feed her craving for compliments or other females who bathe in the same need. It's not because they want the attention it's simply because they need someone to see in them what they cannot. It takes years of being told " you're ugly" or " you're worthless" to really push a woman to this point. I was her once. Now I remind myself every time I wake up that I am beautiful with no approval, I am me and that is enough. — Keysha Jade

I've learned to live simply, wisely
I've learned to live simply, wisely,
To look at the sky and pray to God,
And to take long walks before evening
To wear out this useless anxiety.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
And the yellow-red clusters of rowan nod,
I compose happy verses
About mortal life, mortal and beautiful life.
I return. The fluffy cat
Licks my palm and sweetly purrs.
And on the turret of the sawmill by the lake
A bright flame flares.
The quiet is cut, occasionally,
By the cry of a stork landing on the roof.
And if you were to knock at my door,
It seems to me I wouldn't even hear.
(English version by Judith Hemschemeyer
Original Language Russian) — Anna Akhmatova

He who believes in Me ... out of his heart will flow ... " John 7:38 Jesus did not say, "He who believes in Me will realize all the blessings of the fullness of God," but, in essence, "He who believes in Me will have everything he receives escape out of him." Our Lord's teaching was always anti-self-realization. His purpose is not the development of a person - His purpose is to make a person exactly like Himself, and the Son of God is characterized by self-expenditure. If we believe in Jesus, it is not what we gain but what He pours through us that really counts. God's purpose is not simply to make us beautiful, plump grapes, but to make us grapes so that He may squeeze the sweetness out of us. Our spiritual life cannot be measured by success as the world measures it, but only by what God pours through us - and we cannot measure that at all. — Oswald Chambers

When children ask me what's my favorite [role], I say to them, "Imagine having ten beautiful new puppies in a basket and you had to say which one is your favorite, and you simply couldn't because you love them all for different reasons." POPPINS was such a learning experience, as was THE SOUND OF MUSIC. I tell you, every one of them just helped me grow in what I do and did and each one was such a phenomenal working experience. — Julie Andrews

Ballet is not just movement, not simply abstract. It's something beautiful. Sometimes there's this feeling in the movement that makes me want to cry. — Nina Ananiashvili

I have my own way to walk and for some reason or other Zen is right in the middle of it wherever I go. So there it is, with all its beautiful purposelessness, and it has become very familiar to me though I do not know "what it is." Or even if it is an "it." Not to be foolish and multiply words, I'll say simply that it seems to me that Zen is the very atmosphere of the Gospels, and the Gospels are bursting with it. It is the proper climate for any monk, no matter what kind of monk he may be. If I could not breathe Zen I would probably die of spiritual asphyxiation. — Thomas Merton

His daughters watched in the rain. The prettiest, shyest one hid far back in the field to watch and she had good reason because she was absolutely the most beautiful girl Dean and I ever saw in all our lives. She was about sixteen, and had Plains complexion like wild roses, and the bluest eyes, the most lovely hair, and the modesty and quickness of a wild antelope. At every look from us she flinched. She stood there with the immense winds that blew clear down from Saskatchewan knocking her hair about her lovely head like shrouds, living curls of them. She blushed and blushed ... 'Oh a girl like that scares me,' I said. 'I'd give up everything and throw myself on her mercy and if she didn't want me I'd just as simply go and throw myself off the edge of the world'. — Jack Kerouac

Once I no longer exist as I am, out of what consideration then should I forgo anything? Should I belong to a man I don't love simply because I used to love him? No, I forgo nothing, I love any man who appeals to me and I make any man who loves me happy. Is that ugly? No, it is at least far more beautiful than my cruelly delighting in the tortures incited by my charms and my virtuously turning my back on the poor man who pines away for me. I am young, rich, and beautiful, and just as I am, I live cheerfully for pleasure and enjoyment. — Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch

Let me get this straight," Nina said. "You haven't kissed me because the setting isn't suitably romantic?"
"This isn't about romance . A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There's a way these things should be done."
"For proper thieves?" The corners of her beautiful mouth curled and for a moment he was afraid she would laugh at him, but she simply shook her head and drew even nearer. Her body was the barest breath from his now. The need to close that scrap of distance was maddening.
"The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry," she said. — Leigh Bardugo

He settled in his beautiful Georgian house in Lymington surrounded by beautiful things. He knew how to live well, perhaps without regard for his health. He hated exercise, smoked, drank and wrote. Today he would have been bullied by wife and children and friends into giving up these habits and changing his lifestyle, but I'm not sure he would have given in. Maybe like me, he would simply find a quiet place. Dominic Wheatley, 2013 — Dennis Wheatley

Jesus didn't have to extend His love. He didn't have to think of me when He went up on that cross. He didn't have to rewrite my story from one of beauty to one of brokenness and create a whole new brand of beauty. He simply didn't have to do it, but He did. He bought me. He bought me that day He died, and He showed His power when He overcame death and rose from the grave. He overcame my death in that moment. He overcame my fear of death in that unbelievable, beautiful moment, and the fruit of that death, that resurrection, and that stunning grace is peace. It is the hardest peace, because it is brutal. Horribly brutal and ugly, and we want to look away, but it is the greatest, greatest story that ever was. And it was, and it is. — Kara Tippetts

Myriads of sounds so filled my mind and heart that it's difficult to explain them. The most amazing one, however, was the angels' wings. I didn't see them, but the sound was a beautiful, holy melody with a cadence that seemed never to stop. The swishing resounded as if it was a form of never-ending praise. As I listened I simply knew what it was. A second sound remains, even today, the single, most vivid memory I have of my entire heavenly experience. I call it music, but it differed from anything I had ever heard or ever expect to hear on the earth. The melodies of praise filled the atmosphere. The nonstop intensity and endless variety overwhelmed me. The praise was unending, but the most remarkable thing to me was that hundreds of songs were being sung at the same time - all of them worshiping God. As I approached the large, magnificent gate, I heard them from every direction and realized that each voice praised God. — Don Piper

The rhythm of the water, the sunset over the horizon, and the freedom of the ocean reminds me of how simply beautiful life can be. When you move too fast you can miss the things that mean the most. My love for th ocean reminds me of my love for the snow, and my love for life. So enjoy all that life has to offer. — Tara Dakides

The virtuoso element in jazz playing, all those very fast runs in the upper extremes, simply doesn't appeal to me. That's why I don't want to make my concerto "virtuosic" in the sense of a technical show-off. I want a beautiful sound and a melodic and lyrical line. I am more interested in the way someone can play musically. — Gavin Bryars

I wanted to kiss her, she was beautiful again to me. But I dared not risk it. It wasn't only that I would have frightened her, it was that the desire to kill her was almost overpowering. Some fierce purely male instinct in me wanted to claim her now simply because I had claimed her in another way before. — Anne Rice

The setting sun threatened to consume me - it could have, you know. It would have been a beautiful death with an honorable eulogy: slain by a magnificent slice of piercing orange energy. I simply turned and walked away; I would live another day. — Chila Woychik

And I loved her. Because of that moment, I will always love her."

He said the words as simply as if he were describing the sun going up and coming down.

"No matter that I live and she is dead," Romeo went on earnestly. "It is nothing to me. Were she a revenant and ripping the flesh from my bones, I would love her still, and still I would try - "

"Stop it," said Paris, and then quickly added, "if you want. But I really don't care about your beautiful feelings. — Rosamund Hodge

I turn back to see that he is holding out the book, offering it to me. My eyes make contact with the book at first and then travel up his very muscular, very athletic arm, coming to rest on the utterly beautiful tattoo that is wrapped around it. I can't see the head of the angel, but the detail of its wings as they sheathe his bicep and the sword it holds within its grasp are simply stunning. — A.J. Walters

Mother seemed happiest when making and tending home, the sewing machine whistling and the Mixmaster whirling. Her deepest impulse was to nurture, to simply dwell; it had nothing to do with ambition and achievement in the world ... How had I come to believe that my world of questing and writing was more valuable than her dwelling and domestic artistry? ... I wanted to go out and do things
write books, speak out. I've been driven by that. I don't know how to rest in myself very well, how to be content staying put. But Mother knows how to BE at home
and really, to be in herself. It's actually very beautiful what she does ... I think part of me just longs for the way Mother experiences home. — Sue Monk Kidd

Beautiful

I am beautiful inside and out
I am beautiful without a doubt
So I'll stop listening to the voices in my head
The ones telling me I'm better off dead
I am smart and will make it far
I will be someone I will be a star
I will make it just to prove you wrong
I will let my life go on
I will not dwell on what you said
I will forget what you did
I am thin I am not fat
I will no longer tell myself that
I am kind and loving to those who need it the most
I will see you simply as only a ghost
I am courageous I will let nothing get in my way
I am all these wonderful things each and every day — Various

That's the big difference between [the BookWorld] and [the RealWorld]," said Plum. "When things happen after a randomly pointless event, all that follows is simply unintended consequences, not a coherent narrative thrust that propels the story forward."
I rolled the idea of unintended consequences around in my head. "Nope, I said finally, "you've got me on that one."
"It confuses me, too," admitted Plum, "but that's the RealWorld for you. A brutal and beautiful place, run for the most part on passion, fads, incentives, and mathematics. A lot of mathematics. — Jasper Fforde

The principal difference between her "seductive" and her other self-portraits was the absence of self-awareness in the former and its strong presence in the latter. With time, she became brutally direct. In her later self-portraits she was no longer beautiful, merely odd-looking. She did not seduce, she simply drew attention to herself. Her face became hard, serious. The pronounced cheekbones and heavy eyebrows looks as if they had been carved out of stone. The stern black eyes looked either straight through or straight past the viewer. She deliberately exaggerated the brutality of her self-portraits. She was saying: Look at me, I'm alive and it hurts. These self-portraits were like attestations to her existence: one, two, three, four...Exhibitionism, they said. But for her, painting self-portraits was a kind of magical rite, a kind of exorcism. — Slavenka Drakulic

I started doing 'figures', then, one day, all of a sudden, I started doing abstraction. And then I started doing both. But it was never really a conscious decision. It was simply a question of desire. In fact, I really prefer making figurative work, but the figure is difficult. So to work around the difficulty I take a break and paint abstractly. Which I really like, by the way, because it allows me to make beautiful paintings. — Gerhard Richter

Now, think of a square, a living, beautiful square. And imagine that it must tell you about itself, about its life. You understand, a square would scarcely ever think of telling you that all its four angles are equal: this has become so natural, so ordinary to it that it's simply no longer consciously aware of it. And so with me: I find myself continually in this square's position. — Yevgeny Zamyatin

I continued down the hallway, past the library, with my eyes downcast, not wanting to talk to anyone. So immersed was I in my misery that I recoiled at the sound of a male voice emanating from just a few paces in front of me.
"I know feet are fascinating, Alera, but it's much more sensible to pay attention to where you're going."
Steldor stood outside the door to our quarters wearing a cocky and irritating grin, and for the thousandth time that day, I felt myself turning crimson. I stared at him, struggling for a witty rejoinder but unable to produce one.
"Did you want something, my lord?" I finally asked, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace.
"I simply wanted to see my beautiful wife," he said, countenance still smug, although his eyes had softened and I suspected the compliment was sincere. — Cayla Kluver

His dark eyes were hot.

"Drink the coffee," he growled.

Coffee. Right. She had to hold the cup with both hands, otherwise she'd spill the hot coffee all over herself and all over this beautiful bed. She tipped her head back against the headboard and sipped.

God, it was delicious. Sharp, yet with a smooth smoky taste. Some outrageously expensive blend, no doubt. She took another sip. Perfect.

His hand continued stroking her breast, movements lazy. "Good?" he asked.

"Wonderful."

"Give me a taste," he said suddenly, stretching over to cover her mouth with is. Oh lord, she could simply sink into his kisses. This one was long, languid, the strokes of his hand on her breast echoed by his tongue in her mouth. He lifted his head for a second, then moved in more closely, tongue deeper in her mouth. He lifted his head again and smiled down at her. "It is delicious. — Lisa Marie Rice

He continued. "So I shall simply tell you the truth. I have spent my entire life preparing for a cold, unfeeling, unimpassioned life - a life filled with pleasantries and simplicity. And then you came into it . . . you . . . the opposite of all that. You are beautiful and brilliant and bold and so very passionate about life and love and those things that you believe in. And you taught me that everything I believed, everything I thought I wanted, everything I had spent my life espousing - all of it . . . it is wrong. I want your version of life . . . vivid and emotional and messy and wonderful and filled with happiness. But I cannot have it without you.
"I love you, Juliana. I love the way you have turned my entire life upside down, and I am not certain I could live without you now that I have lived with you. — Sarah MacLean

What dost thou believe is the most precious and beautiful thing in this world? What I believe is this. To me, "knowledge" is simply a "weapon" for living. 'Tis not my "goal" in life. That which is precious, which is beautiful...the absolute for which I would wager my entire life - 'tis called...love! — Jun Mochizuki

"You couldn't be more wrong", I said. "You are buying into the cross-stitched sentiments of your parents' throw pillows. You're arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that's a lie, and you know it." "You're a hard person to comfort" , Augustus said. "Easy comfort isn't comforting", I said. "You were a rare and fragile flower once. You remember." For a moment he said nothing. "You do know how to shut me up, Hazel Grace." "It's my privilege and responsibility," I answered. — John Green

The movie was very different from the book in that there was nothing from the book in the movie. Despite everything - all the pain I felt, the betrayal - I couldn't help but recognize a truth while sitting in that screening room. In the book everything about me had happened. The book was something I simply couldn't disavow. The book was blunt and had an honesty about it, whereas the movie was just a beautiful lie. — Bret Easton Ellis

I would run to rejoin the children. Especially when it was time for the kite-flying contests- where the boys would skilfully try to cut down their competitors' kite strings. It plunges. It was beautiful, and also a bit melancholy for me to see the pretty kittens sputter to the ground.
Maybe it was because I could see a future that would be cut down just like those kites- simply because I was a girl. — Malala Yousafzai

Sentiments of your parents' throw pillows. You're arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that's a lie, and you know it." "You're a hard person to comfort," Augustus said. "Easy comfort isn't comforting," I said. "You were a rare and fragile flower once. You remember." For a moment, he said nothing. "You do know how to shut me up, Hazel Grace." "It's my privilege and my responsibility," I answered. — John Green

It's a beautiful moment when you finally shift into knowing something you have been believing. This 90-day adventure was that for me. I shifted into truly accessing all of this information I had read, believed and otherwise accepted as truth. Accessing the information, and exploring it, allowed me to live it firsthand. What was once simply an energy of thought has solidified into concrete truth. Into knowing. — Camille Lucy

Someone once asked me why people sing. I answered that they sing for many of the same reasons the birds sing. They sing for a mate, to claim their territory, or simply to give voice to the delight of being alive in the midst of a beautiful day. Perhaps more than the birds do, humans hold a grudge. They sing to complain of how grievously they have been wronged, and how to avoid it in the future. They sing to help themselves execute a job of work. They sing so the subsequent generations won't forget what the current generation endured, or dreamed, or delighted in. — Linda Ronstadt

What hasn't she done to me? She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my entire life. She has a passion about other people's happiness that is simply inspiring. She rose from her own ashes and became an even better person when most would have stayed in the dark," I tell her, looking straight into her eyes. "And when she dances, sings or plays an instrument ... she's a completely out of this world artist and I can't take my eyes ... and hands off her, — Danielle-Claude Ngontang Mba

Sign is a live, contemporaneous, visual-gestural language and consists of hand shapes, hand positioning, facial expressions, and body movements. Simply put, it is for me the most beautiful, immediate, and expressive of languages, because it incorporates the entire human body. — Myron Uhlberg

What's it like to be in love?" May asked.
Part of me ached. Why hadn't she ever asked me? Then I remembered, as far as May knew, I'd never been in love.
Lucy's smile was sad. "It's the most wonderful and terrible thing that can ever happen to you," she said simply. "You know that you've found something amazing, and you want to hold on to it forever; and every second after you have it, you fear the moment you might lose it."
I sighed softly. She was absolutely right.
Love is beautiful fear. — Kiera Cass

I like extreme athletics, extreme meditation and extremely beautiful women. Perhaps I'm an extreme person, or it's simply my Karma. But I must tell you, as if you hadn't read about me in a newspaper or seen me on a magazine format television show, there are extreme risks involved with all three. — Frederick Lenz

Later, as I attempted to lean over the high sides of the hospital
bed to kiss David, I couldn't reach either his forehead or his lips, so
I began kissing the length of his arm.
"I love you," I told him before I was ready to leave for the night.
His beautiful brown eyes locked with mine.
"Thank you," he replied simply, grabbing hold of my hand with
his. I brought it to my lips in response.
Thank you, as if my love were a great gift to him, when all along
his love was the gift to me. — Mary Potter Kenyon

Sometimes, I'm unable to #express what #hurts me and what makes me #happy in his #love.
There's a fear of losing him
This feeling of ruining a beautiful relationship
so I keep quiet, ignore, and let go of the things I don't like..

that's not compromising..
that's simply holding on to the relationship you want the most.. — Himmilicious

Life is beautiful because it is insecure. Life is beautiful because there is death. Life is beautiful because it can be missed. If you cannot miss it, everything is forced upon you, then even life becomes an imprisonment. You will not be able to enjoy it. Even if you are ordered to be blissful, commanded to be free, then bliss and freedom both are gone. "Will existence protect me when I allow myself to let go?" Try! Only one thing I can say to you. ... I am not talking to your fear, remember. Only one thing I can say to you - all those who have tried have found that it protects. But I am not talking to your fear. I am simply encouraging your adventure, that's all. I am persuading, seducing you toward adventure. I am not talking to your fear. All those who have tried have found that infinite is the protection. — Osho

I was never afraid of my monsters. I controlled them. I slept with them in the dark, and they never stepped beyond their boundaries. My monsters had never asked to be bora with bolts in their necks, scaly wings, blood hunger in their veins, or deformed faces from which beautiful girls shrank back in horror. My monsters were not evil; they were simply trying to survive in a tough old world. They reminded me of myself and my friends: ungainly, unlovely, beaten but not conquered. They were the outsiders searching for a place to belong in a cataclysm of villagers' torches, amulets, crucifixes, silver bullets, radiation bombs, air force jets, and flamethrowers. They were imperfect, and heroic in their suffering. — Robert McCammon