a beautiful woman - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
A beautiful woman feels beautiful within, from the love she gives to her ideas and the creative ways she expresses her soul. She is one who wraps her arms around the soul of the world, of all who love her and those who need to love. That's beauty and if you can see that too, you'll be smarter and wiser than most.
I loved her curves of softness. With the muscle of a footballer and the blessed fat of a baby, she was the most astonishing girl I ever met... easy to talk to and fun to be around. There's beauty in being a good listener, someone who seeks to make connections and joy and see things from new perspectives. She had safe eyes, perhaps that's the best way to say it. She had a beauty that made those billboard-princesses look as paper thin as they are, she was something robust and real. That was my girl, it was her before she was mine and it was her all of her days. Age can't touch that kind of beauty, it's just there.
Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief. As I looked into her eyes I knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them I read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful.
She appeared in the room with the winter snow billowing around her skirt. Most did not pay attention to her beauty, but rather her color. Burnt Sienna never looked so beautiful on a woman. With black hair of wool and her head held high, she waltzed on with an effortless saunter. The clicking of her heels added rhythm to the soft classical music that played onward without pause. Her eyes scanned the room with determination in search of someone when her eyes met mine she smiled. So beautiful it was like the stars themselves, decided to rest behind the soft cushion of her lips.
Even at forty Mila's mother still outshone her. Five foot seven, willowy and a face cut right from the pages of a men's magazine. Any copy of GQ would show them what she looked like in lingerie. Mila on the other hand had stopped growing at five foot three inches, had the sort of face people forgot even before they'd stopped looking at it and had gained thirty pounds since her fifteenth birthday, mostly around the hips.
Celine wasn't beautiful in the classical way, no flowing golden curls or ivory skin; no piercing eyes of green. She was shorter than average and certainly larger than a catwalk model, but in her ordinariness she was stunning. Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible to both genders. Men desired her and women courted her friendship.
Archer lay upon a soft feather mattress, cocooning himself in the silk sheets. At the bottom of the bed stood a woman. He gazed upon her perfect, naked form, her skin glistening with a sensual sweat. His eye’s were drawn to the golden river that gently caressed its way down her neck, reaching to just below her shoulder blades. If the gods are real, he told himself, then this woman is their masterpiece.
She had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her black skin was completely flawless. I doubt she used face masks or expensive products, that really wasn't her m.o. She was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they have. Perhaps that is why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in her company was to feel that you too were someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.
Gina was a beautiful woman, but only on the outside. She was highly practiced at seduction. With her latin looks and high cheek bones it was all too simple. Nothing so pretty could possibly harm you, right? Mostly she just let them feel in charge, guiding the conversation with unnoticed prompts. It was only seconds before her new target was jumping through hoops to please her. Her face and some cleavage could get her anything and anyone. No-one knew how she'd take a rejection because it had never happened.
When finally she arrives her gait is halting like there's something wrong, she's almost walking right but there's something out of sync. Perhaps one leg is stopping a little short or maybe going long, it's so hard to tell. But when she turns and smiles all thoughts of inquiry flee, she isn't conventionally beautiful, but to me she's simply haunting.
Tyler wasn't about to wait another minute, this chick was late and he wasn't having it. Her picture wasn't that great anyway, likely there were better looking women in the club tonight - like the one coming down the sidewalk at that moment. Her hair was straight black, eyes dark, figure a perfect hour glass. Out of habit his eyes fell to her hand to look for rings. When she stopped right in front of him he prepared to give her directions, she didn't really look like she belonged here anyway, she was like a magazine cut-out dropped onto the Brooklyn sidewalk. "Hey, Tyler?"
His usual swagger fled faster than a gambler from a bookie. He swallowed. "Um, yeah. That's he. I mean me. I'm Tyler." She smiled, eyebrows raised and extended a manicured hand.
"Olivia. Shall we get out of here?" Tyler took his hands out of his pockets, suddenly unsure of where to put them. Shyness wasn't usually his gig, what the hell was going on here?
"Um, yeah. Where d'ya wanna go? I know some good places..."
The woman that walked in could have graced any billboard or magazine cover, but she was better than those two dimensional photoshopped models. Somehow her imperfections made her perfect. There was a shyness to her, hesitation in her body movements and a softness in her voice. Her cream suit had a tailored look that was bold against her dark skin, but I could already see her in jeans and a t-shirt, feet up on the couch and painting her nails. She was right there, only feet away, but in her understated glamour she might as well be on the television or a girl in a pop video. So I gathered up my things to go, I'd never see her again, but that was alright. She didn't need a plain guy like me. In that moment my eyes were down on the table that's when the chaos began...
...She was the kind of girl that women loved to hate. She was an adult I suppose, but so young that she still had the exuberance of youth. She had that movie star look, not overly tall and willowy, but more like an action star. Her muscle definition was perfect and she walked with the confidence of someone a decade older. She wasn't just flawless in her bone structure, her skin was like silk over glass and she radiated an intelligent beauty.
His mark stepped out from the black limousine, her curly brown hair falling in soft layers around bare shoulders. She had the right physique and the right hair, but he'd have to wait for her to turn to get a positive I.D. on the face. He made the siren noise, everyone turned toward it, including her. Who doesn't want to see the ambulance or the police chase? The photograph hadn't done her justice at all. In his magnified scopes her eyes shone and there was a genuine look of concern on her symmetrical features rather than the glee of a gawker. He wanted to reach out and touch her lips, full and glossy red even in the fading light of the evening. Her bare arms were honed from hours in the gym and about her neck sat the diamond necklace from his employers vault. She was the thief or someone close to them, either way his brief was to eliminate her. She fell without even a cry, never aware of her own end. One minute she was expecting a glittering gala and the next she was gone, dispatched.
Her tall frame and slender body were like of a Victoria secret model. Her blue eyes, like the sea, were calm and emotionless. Long, wavy blonde hair, so smooth and silky, almost as if it was tailored from gold fabric. She sat down on the bench as she looked out at the sea, her thoughts on how much her life resembled it: no burden, no emotion, no order. Everything, even the simplest things of what to eat were already decided for her. She wanted and needed a change; she turned to face him, the only man who truly loved her. She felt tears on her wind-cooled skin and smiled for once in her life as she walked to him.
The woman looked up from her morning cup of coffee. She had a warm chestnut colour hair and pastel white skin which made her beautiful pink lips stand out. Her cheeks were rouged and she was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey band shirt,.
Blue eyes, gold hair. A confident, sexy strut that tells the world, "I'm beautiful."
Soft hands, crows feet. And she never misses a single step.
Alluringly, she would blink her eyes from time to time, allowing her eyelashes to flutter like the wings of a butterfly. My god, her eyes were simply spellbinding. Her left eye was a rapturous shade of cerulean blue, much more appealing then my own, and hazel-auburn rondured sphere orbited in her right eye. Each one held a coruscate gleam that enhanced their beauty. Her seraph's ears were pierced by golden hoops that were concealed by caramel colored blonde waves, enhanced by highlights of pink and blue.
Kayla's ability was to let her see into the soul's of those around her, and over the past months she'd been seeing people for who they truly were.
Marissa, for instance, had been a shock. Her beloved girlfriend, with shining blonde hair and freckles dotted on her naturally blushed cheeks and a body most women would kill to have. Sweet, beautiful Marissa. Well, her soul was a stained, diseased, twisted thing that pulsated and leaked gasses.
That girl she used to go out with back in her first year of collage, the one with the messed up teeth and the acne?
Her soul was a frail, elegant brown shape that shone under a mysterious light and swayed as if dancing to an everlasting song.
And Kayla, well, she was doubting how much faith she should put into her eyes, that were quite obviously deceiving her, to judge these two beautiful women.
And when she walked into the room, my whole world slowed down. I look up from reading my book and lay eyes on the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Perfect crimson hair that rested right above her shoulders and chocolate brown eyes that could swallow galaxies. Her perfect skin that looked so fragile yet so soft and the unerring amount of freckles around her nose. Cheeks the colour of pink roses and eyelashes longer than anyone's I've ever seen. And her out-of-this-world body caught my attention, a small waist hidden under a red ribbed top and curvy hips that fit so perfectly in her dark washed blue jeans. This was the girl, the girl that I know will change the way I look at life.