579 Quotes About Appearance

What’s more, his faded old jeans hugged his ass perfectly as he stepped forward to toss a ring, and then they loosened as he stepped back. Hug, loosen, hug, loosen, hug, hug…hug…loosen. Jeans all perfectly rumpled right down to his dull, black boots. No doubt he chose those jeans specifically for their butt-hugging abilities. He probably practiced that hug-promoting movement in the mirror.

She was the quintessential twenty-first-century woman: She could build a high-rise in a Chanel suit and Jimmy Choos, give lessons in multitasking, and freeze the heart of the coldest competitor with a single unblinking gaze over the rim of her ebony-framed reading glasses. But that persona was like a bodysuit that she pulled on at eight in the morning and peeled out of at five in the afternoon.

While obsession with one’s personal appearance is a sign of being a vacant prat, total oblivion to it is a sign of mental illness.

Don’t be scared of the changing times. Things are never constant, even if they appear so.

When I propose a candidate for a job I don't do it because the person in question is the best but because he is the one the client will employ. I provide them with a head that is good enough, placed on a body they want. [...] The world is full of people who pay serious money for bad pictures by good artists. And mediocre heads on tall bodies.

There is more to someone being lovable than the way they look.

More than being absurdly blond and absurdly messy, the Young Electrician had one of those extraordinarily sweet, extraordinarily vital, strangely mysterious, utterly unexplainable masculine faces that fill your senses with an odd, impersonal disquietude, an itching unrest, like the hazy, teasing reminder of some previous existence in a prehistoric cave, or, more tormenting still, with the tingling, psychic prophecy of some amazing emotional experience yet to come.

Look beneath the surface. Things are usually very different from how they initially appeared, and ignorance, which didn't look beneath the surface, turns to disillusion when it penetrates to the interior. Falsehood always arrives first; it drags along fools with their endless vulgarity. Truth always arrives last, and late, limping along with Time.

I look like a hungover mug shot version of myself without all this crap, and yes, I'm a sucker for products that promise to make me look rested and dewy. And no, they never work, and no, I don't even fully understand the difference between greasy and dewy, but now that I've overpaid for them, we're gonna ride this rocket all the way into the ground!