beautiful - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"Beautiful" is so very different from those starving adolescents they put in the magazines, covered in so many different products until they appear gaunt and barely human. "Beautiful" is a casual smile so freely given, a tenderness of the soul we let show through, something that can make a real connection with others. "Beautiful" is the soul you were born with, the one that brings smiles to your face and loves music and dance. So be it, live it, love it.
"Beautiful" is that spark in your eye, the one that says you're up for an adventure. "Beautiful" is your soul, the one that loves so deeply and cares so very much for others. "Beautiful" is how you were born, and with your friends standing with you every step of the way... it is how you will stay for all of your days.
I'm not sure if you'd say she was classically beautiful, but her large liquid brown eyes held such an intelligence and serenity that it was impossible for me not to be held prisoner by them. Her cheekbones weren't especially high and her nose was a little too long to be perfect, but there was undeniable symmetry to her features and perhaps that's what held me so captivated. She wore her long black hair in a bun each day, but in my mind it was long and fluid, lying gently over her shoulder bones, kissing her soft skin. It was all I could do not to stutter and blush when she addressed me.
I'd see the other boys trip over themselves in her presence, she was that beautiful. But I refuse to be like that with anyone, just because they were born with a more symmetrical face. Apparently that's why she liked me. No-one could figure out what a girl like that wanted with a guy like me, but I guess I just treated her the way her family did, like she was just a normal girl.
People say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but for Saskia that was true of everyone she met. Peoples eyes held her gaze for a split second longer that other peoples as their brains registered surprise. Strangers gazed at her when they thought she was unaware. Even her teachers favoured her over the other students. At school she was popular without even trying. But all this had borne an arrogance into her. Her superiority complex gave her an ugly attitude that she made no attempt to conceal. She became more callous and mean spirited with each passing year. Some say she was blessed with beauty, but I've known her all her life, and I say she was cursed. Personally, I'm praying for boils or an accident, maybe that way she could rejoin humanity one day.
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.
She was nothing to look at, short with an asymmetrical face and a few spots, but to me she was beautiful. Perhaps some would find her mild manners bland, but to me they were like salve on my soul. In her presence I felt showered with love and in her eyes shone a gentleness that told me that,at last, I was home.
As I sit in front of the mirror, I will sing along to the newest hits on the radio. As I smile and laugh at myself, I will begin to feel good again. First the foundation, then the mascara. With every stroke I feel better, more comfortable. Then I'll darken my eyebrows a shade or two and place a line of solid black around the frame of my eye. Slowly the colors will blend and the perfect eye shadow combination will tie my whole outfit together. With every step I take, I feel confident.
That is, until your first comment.
Because the tears will be a constant reminder of how I am NOT beautiful.
Stella was always quite the beauty, but seeing her up close only reinforced that truth. She was of fair complexion, long wisps of umber streaked with highlights of ginger that always seemed to gleam when they captured the light just right. She had the kindest pair of coffee brown eyes trimmed by long gorgeous lashes. Lovely eyes, yet somehow gentle, that always held a tiny warmth within them. Florid cheeks and flawlessly sculpted lips, as if crafted by angels themselves; sitting this close to her I could see them clearly, glistening attractively with cherry lip balm that added further rosy color. All these features set together on a delicate almost, angelic face.
The essence of the man was in his entirety, beautiful.
God loves him more... because the ground recognizes his tread, perking up as he buries his toes in the grass. Because, where he walks, the wind blows to assist him forward, the trees swaying to his subdued hums. Because the crest of a way takes longer to diminish when he rides it. Because the very molecules he breathes are alight with something else.
Did you know "lovely" is better than "beautiful"? Its dictionary definition is “exquisitely beautiful,” and though I am not one for textbook definitions or overly thought-out things, it still surprises me that not even that is good enough to describe her.