She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
Nothing makes a woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.
For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.
For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.
I don't like standard beauty - there is no beauty without strangeness.
For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.
When virtue and modesty enlighten her charms, the lustre of a beautiful woman is brighter than the stars of heaven, and the influence of her power it is in vain to resist.
A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears.
Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.
Real beauty is to be true to oneself. That's what makes me feel good.
It's beauty that captures your attention. personality which captures your heart.
Nothing's beautiful from every point of view.
True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair.
By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower.
There is no cosmetic for beauty like happiness.
A women's greatest asset is her beauty.
She was at that crucial age when a women begins to regret having stayed faithful to a husband she never really loved, when the glowing sunset colors of her beauty offer her one last, urgent choice between maternal and feminine love. At such a moment a life that seemed to have chosen its course long ago is questioned once again, for the last time the magic compass needle of the will hovers between final resignation and the hope of erotic experience.
By the care she lavishes on her toilet, by the concern she has for her beauty set off by her adornment, a woman regards herself as an object always trying to attract men's attention.
Then there will come a time where, very quickly, a woman will lose what some call her beauty.
An Airstream is a lot like a first love: you are lured by her charm, seduced by her beauty, and once bitten, you are forever chasing after her mystique.
The vainest woman is never thoroughly conscious of her beauty till she is loved by the man who sets her own passion vibrating in return.
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