You Look Like Angel Quotes & Sayings

I'm coming ... to see you. Rosiel ... You don't need to suffer like this. Look. You can do as you please. I'll submit ... to anything. I don't need anyone. I had no one from the beginning. This way, for eternity I won't feel the curse of my existence or the hatred of others. I'll lose nothing ... Be loved by nothing ... — Kaori Yuki

Are you related to Criss Angel? Because you look like an angel. — Kristen Schaal

I thought that I was in heaven
But I was sure surprised
Heaven help me, I didn't see
The devil in your eyes
You look like an angel
Walk like an angel
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
You're the devil in disguise
Oh yes you are
The devil in disguise — Elvis Presley

He looked like a kid caught making an angel in the snow, except his glasses had been blown off and one of his hands was bleeding. He breathed heavily; his belly rose and fell.
I knelt close. 'George?'
A groan, a cough. 'It's too late. Leave me ... Let me sleep ... '
I shook him firmly, slapped the side of his face. 'George, you've got to wake up! George, *please.* Are you okay?'
An eye opened. 'Ow. That cheek was the one part of me that *wasn't* sore.'
'Here, look - your glasses.' I scooped them out of the ash, put them on his chest. — Jonathan Stroud

This is Ian. He's no' usually speechless. Or so well dressed."
-Conner
I shouldna wear my best clothes to meet an angel from heaven?"
-Ian
"You look very nice, I love your shirt."
-Marielle
"Thank you"
-Ian
"I have a shirt like that, too."
-Conner — Kerrelyn Sparks

You look like an angel, walk like an angel, talk like an angel. But I got wise, you're the devil in disguise. — Elvis Presley

I looked down at Lilah, her hair around her on the pillow like a damn halo. "Baby," I rasped, you look like a fuckin' angel right now. I ain't seeing any evidence of some evil, sinful woman." Lilah's hand dropped. "That is the disguise. The devil is beautiful after all."
"Then I fuckin' want the devil, Li...I want you. — Tillie Cole

People say, 'You look like the girl who used to be on that show 'Angel' - they don't actually think I'm her. — Amy Acker

You are gonna shoot me," he says. "One day." He's still holding Lindsay's hand, he's looking down at where their fingers are wound together and not at Lindsay's face, but his voice is clear. "I ain't thick. I know you'll get sick of me. You can't just let me go, I know too much, you'd be freaked out forever in case I snitched. You'll get proper sick of me one day, not just annoyed, and then you'll shoot me. It's okay."
"I won't get sick of you," Lindsay says. He feels numb and far away, as if its somebody else talking, and almost like he's going to throw up, a sort of lurch in his stomach like when you're at the top of the the Angel tube station escalator and somebody a bit too eager to get on the train shoves you from behind.
"Yeah you will. I'm gonna be with you til I die, though. Least I can say that and know its true, how many people can do that? Bit romantic, really. If you squint, and look at it sideways. — Richard Rider

Maybe after you die you get sent to a giant room with archives of newspapers that have been written by these angel journalists specifically about your life and then you read them and they look like this. That would be insanely depressing. Hopefully at least some of her headlines would be about the other people in your life and not just you. — Jesse Andrews

You look gorgeous, Elle, and you don't act like a gorgeous woman does."
"I don't? How do I act?"
"You act like an angel. But you fuck like a deomon. Don't you. — Megan Hart

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.
Another sword drops.
Then another.
Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.
The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.
Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say they're looking at my sword.
"Whoa." That's about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?
I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear? — Susan Ee

I love your hands,' he sighed. 'You think I look like an angel? Well, Kitten, your hands are my heaven and your eyes are my home.' (Bones) — Jeaniene Frost

Where will I find you now that my heart is yours?
Where should I search? I don't know where to look.
You fill my heart with desire and love,
The perfume of the lotus, the grace of a dove.
But then the dove flies far, far away,
All that is left is a song for my harp strings to play.
A voice in my memories like an angel of grace,
Where can I find you? Do you know how I pray?
Where will I find you now that my love belongs to you?
Wherever your heart beats, I'm dreaming of you.
Now and forever my love belongs to you ...
Now and forever my love belongs to you ... — Bjorn Street

You look like a goddess when you come, did you know that?"
"I'm not a goddess."
"Not a goddess. Not an angel. Not a devil. Are you a ghost? Because you can't be real."
"I'm real. — Megan Hart

You look like her; the angel I have seen in my dreams. — M.F. Moonzajer

Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; Angels are painted fair to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love. — Thomas Otway

Books are like a mirror. If an ass looks in, you can't expect an angel to look out. — B.C. Forbes

Jory, most people, when hit men come after them, they get killed. You're lucky, spontaneous, and your guardian angel is overworked and way underpaid"
"I know, right? My angel walks into a bar and the other angels are like, Oh shit, that's the poor sap that's got Jory Harcourt. Look at him, he started drinking again.'" Sam was smiling. "Look at the twitch he's got, poor bastard. — Mary Calmes

This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? — William Shakespeare

In the 'Angel' days, all there was was a community that was like a chat room. If you were looking for feedback, you had to look for it. — J. August Richards

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry — Radiohead

Sometimes all a breathing attack takes is reassurance. What Pete thought. And a shot of prednisone. And two huffs of the red inhaler, then the white one. And a big burly doctor who looked a little like Ernest Hemingway to place his hand on an arm and keep repeating, "Just a reaction to the altitude, maybe the mist tonight and woodsmoke combined. You'll be fine, fine. There now." And a Latvian in a bathrobe - Oh God! Pete noticed now that she had bare feet! She had not even stopped to put on shoes - a barefoot Latvian to intone, "So beautiful, you really look like an angel," and a one-armed hero who reeks of cigarettes and pot to keep saying happily, "Fuckin' A, look, look at that, breathing fine now, fuckin' A. — Peter Heller

Cole tilted her chin so he could look deeply into her eyes. "Kyle, you are my heaven. Will you come with me?"
"I will." Kyle snuggled deeper into his chest, gently tracing his Sorry tattoo.
Cole's heart beat like the pounding of an angel's wings. — Debra Anastasia

Frozen, I stood staring at him like he was a vision or something. His hair was still damp, and a few droplets glistened on his face. When he caught me, warmth burned across my cheeks.
"Were you just ogling me, Angel?"
"No, I wasn't."
He chuckled. "I think you were."
I whirled around and swept my hands to my hips. "Fine I was ogling you. Happy now?"
"Actually I am. I like it when you look at me like you want me. Like you think I'm ... handsome."
My brows rose in surprise. "Handsome? That doesn't sound like the way you would describe yourself."
With a grin, he asked, "And just how would I describe myself?"
"Hmm, sexy, hot as hell, and panty melting?" I challenged as I handed him a Coke.
"Yeah, you're right. Those really describe me better. — Katie Ashley

In this busy modernized age, it's easy to be blind to the light all around us. You see, there truly are real angels living among us that look just like you and I. If you pay attention, you can spot one because they're quite easy to find. They're the souls with the eternally deep eyes that always act like something is broken inside, but fail to realize it's just their wings. — Suzy Kassem

All I need is
backup. He's the little angel that sits on my shoulder whispering in my ear,
"You can do it!" It's funny. I'm thirty years old now and I still feel like a little
girl. I'm still looking around to check and see what other people are doing
to make sure I'm not completely different; I'm still looking around for help,
hoping for a quick nudge and a whisper of advice. But I can't seem to be able
to catch anybody's eye. Nobody else around me seems to be looking around
and wondering what to do. Why is it that I feel like I'm the only person who
is confused and concerned about the choices I've made and where I'm
headed? Everywhere I look, I see people just getting on with it. Maybe I
should just follow suit and get on with it. — Cecelia Ahern

You're lucky, spontaneous, and your guardian angel is overworked and way underpaid." "I know, right? My angel walks into a bar and the other angels are like, 'Oh shit, that's the poor sap that's got Jory Harcourt. Look at him, he started drinking again. — Mary Calmes

Look at yourself! You're a priest. You know damn well that if I were setting out to make a girl at this moment instead of young Paolo, you'd take an entirely different view. You'd disapprove, sure! You'd read me a lecture on fornication and all the rest. But you wouldn't be too unhappy. I'd be normal ... according to nature! But I am not made like that. God didn't make me like that. But do I need love the less? Do I need satisfaction less? Have I less right to live in contentment because somewhere along the line the Almighty slipped a cog in creation? ... What's your answer to that Meredith? What's your answer for me? Tie a knot in myself and take up badminton and wait till they make me an angel in heaven, where they don't need this sort of thing any more? I'm lonely! I need love like the next man! My sort of love! — Morris L. West

Don't look at me like that," said Guy.
"How am I looking at you?" I asked.
"Like I'm the Grinch who stole Christmas. — E. Van Lowe

Suddenly the look in Norah's eyes changed. The nervous air she had walked in with, lifted from her face. Her eyes closed slightly and then opened wide, revealing pools of chocolate confidence. The change in her facial expression forced me to take a breath. How could you not love a creature like this - Angel by day, vixen by night. — Angela Richardson

I look at you, angel, and I want you so badly. I want to be with you, listen to you, talk to you. I want to hear you laugh and hold you when you cry. I want to sit next to you, breathe the same air, share the same life. I want to wake up to you like this every day forever. I want you. — Sylvia Day

She is here amongst us, but she is not alone," one of the pixie dust angels told the queen of the woods.
"And?" the queen demanded.
"She is with some boy. Both look strange, if you ask me."
"Strange, how?" the queen asked.
"Strange. You know they don't look as we do."
"How do they look?" The queen turned and looked at the pixie angel with her purple eye that sat in the middle of her forehead.
"I don't know. They have things like the little people in Vanduesa."
"What things might you be referring to?" the queen's voice rose impatiently.
"You know those things that the little people get around with."
The queen laughed, revealing yellowing teeth. "Oh, the things the little people in Vanduesa refer to as legs."
"That's it." The pixie angel did an excited flip, and then nodded her head. — Lynette Mather

My mom made me think I was gorgeous. When I was younger she was like, 'Look at you! You're an angel. You sparkle!' And I was like, 'I do!' You believe your parents. — Amy Schumer

As we dried off, Judd demanded, "Say you're mine."
The dark look in Judd's eyes was intense. The angry tension in his expression made me feel like someone had doubted his right to me and he was proving them wrong.
"I'm yours forever."
"I won't let you go. Even if you want to leave, I won't be able to let you leave."
"Wait, are you threatening me?" I asked, squinting at him.
"I'm threatening the guy who tries to take you away."
"What's he like?" I teased, stepping away from his curious fingers. "How does he woo me from my man?"
"Who cares? He'll be dead before he touches you."
"Because I'm yours?" I said, backing up towards the bed. "Because I'll always be yours?"
Watching me slide under the covers and hold them up for him, Judd gave me a soft smile. "You really are my angel."
"And you'll always be my knight. — Bijou Hunter

Don't tell me from genetics. What've they got to do with it?" said Crowley. "Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you're going to go on about genetics, you might as well say the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he'll grow up to be a demon just because his dad _became_ one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will give birth to tailless mice. No. Upbringing is everything. Take it from me. — Terry Pratchett

I want to see the front of you."
"That's what all the girls say."
"Do you expect me to roll you over? 'Cuz I will."
"Your mate's not going to like this."
"As if that's going to bother you?"
"True. It actually makes it worth the effort."
With a groan, he shoved his palms into the shimmering silver pool of blood beneath him, and flopped over like the side of beef he was.
"Wow," she breathed.
"I know, right? Hung like a horse."
"If you're really nice - and you live through this - I'll promise not to tell V."
"About my size."
She laughed a little. "No, that you assumed I'd look at you in any fashion other than professionally. — J.R. Ward

That will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing, - out with it?" "There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask, - Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess," he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane - and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer. — Charlotte Bronte

Bree arched, trying to stretch out her muscles and Alessandro gave her a dirty look as if she was displaying herself to him on purpose. Well, maybe she was a little. Even though he blocked her from the hotel attendant's gaze with his body in the doorway, Bree was sure to cover herself with the blanket. Alessandro turned around, pulling in the tray with him and his eyes flared hungrily as he looked down at her. "You look like a beautiful debauched angel," he said, his voice rough with desire. "And you're what, the demon that's corrupted me?" Bree asked raising an eyebrow and letting the blanket fall down to her waist, baring her to him. "It's my life's work, you know?" Alessandro grinned, going down on to his knees and leaning over her. Bree placed a hand on his chest, halting him. "Is that coffee, I smell?" she asked. "The debauched angel is kind of hungry." She bit her lip and smiled up at his frustrated face. — E. Jamie

You, who only know love when in love, do not ask what it is, nor do you look for it. But when a woman once asked you if you were in love with love itself, you were evasive and escaped by answering: I love you. She persisted: Do you not love love? You said: I love you, because of you. She left you, because you could not be trusted with her absence. Love is not an idea. It is an emotion that can cool down or heat up. It comes and goes. It is an embodied feeling and has five, or more, senses. Sometimes it appears as an angel with delicate wings that can uproot us from the earth. Sometimes it charges at us like a bull, hurls us to the ground, and walks away. At other times it is a storm we only recognize in its devastating aftermath. Sometimes it falls upon us like the night dew when a magical hand milks a wandering cloud. — Mahmoud Darwish