Beautiful Woman Quotes

“Most nights, her body was commerce. She traded vacuous affection for survival. Her wounded soul, bandaged by the deceptive nature of the
Zone had served no purpose in aiding her.”
― Rohith S. Katbamna, Down and Rising

“There's treachery in her hips, rebellion in her heart & magic in her mind.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones

“When you first look at a woman, you are in fact blind to her beauty. The true beauty of a woman is revealed only after you get to know her.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

“If roses could talk, they would not boast of their beauty, because they know that they have always been beautiful.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

“Slender and lissome, Zilia had skin of the purest white and features the very emblem of candor and modesty; her large dark blue eyes, more tender than lively, seemed to express love at the height of delicacy, sentiment at its most voluptuous. Her mouth was deliciously formed, her teeth white and beautiful; she seemed a little pale until one's gaze fell upon her and then she burst to life, fresh as a rose. Her brow was noble, her hair, so nicely patterned, ashen blonde in great quantity, elegantly matched by the gracious contours of her veil, streaming across alabaster breasts, always exposed in accord with the fashion of the country—all finally lent this pretty woman the air of a goddess of youth. She had just reached her 16th year, still growing despite all, her arms lithe and fingers to our eyes so very supple and slender.”
― Marquis de Sade, Aline and Valcour, or, the Philosophical Novel, Vol. II

“He'd caught only a few brief glimpses of her without the mask over the course of the day, but he could see her clearly now, an outrageously beautiful woman who vibrated with energy. With her dark hair now an unbound mass of curls falling softly around her shoulders, full mouth curved in a smile, dark eyes sparkling, she was the kind of woman who stirred a man's blood. He couldn't tear his gaze away.”
― Sara Desai, The Singles Table

“God, she was gorgeous. Pure and cleanly beautiful. From the rounded crests of her cheeks to the delicate sweep of her jaw, she had the kind of face sculptors memorialized in marble and the rest of us gazed upon for centuries to come.
Of course she was beautiful. She was an actress. Meant to be idolized on the screen. Emma Maron, a.k.a Princess Anya, future queen and conqueror on Dark Castle. The guys and I used to watch the show while traveling between games. Anya was a favorite. Particularly since...
I'd seen her breasts. It hit me like a puck to the helmet, and my ears began to ring. I'd seen those perfect creamy handfuls with sweet pink tips that pointed upward, defying gravity and begging to be sucked. I had watched her on hands on knees, perky tits bouncing as Arasmus slammed into her from behind.
I actually blushed. Me. The guy who'd had dozens of women throw themselves at him every night since high school. I'd had sex so many times and in so many ways it had become a blur. Nothing shamed me or made me uncomfortable. Yet I started to get hot under the collar, my cheeks burning. After nearly a year of being disinterested in all things sexual, my dick decided to make its presence known and start rising. Now, of all times. Now, when I was stuck in a damn truck less than three feet from a woman, I finally got a hard-on. Lovely.
I felt like a damn lecher.
"At least it's a beautiful drive," she said, breaking through heated thoughts of creamy breasts with cotton candy nipples.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“He saw her legs first. Ankle boots met her bare calves, and the tops of her knees were hidden under a maroon, long-sleeved body-con dress. His gaze momentarily flitted to her breasts, which were pushed up and toward him. He was only human, after all, and they were really amazing breasts. He was used to seeing her in conservative wardrobe choices for the show, or the casual-date look she'd had at the pumpkin patch and ice-cream shop. In this fitted, sleek dress that showed off every one of her curves, though, she looked...”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“Those piercingly beautiful blue eyes were looking down at him, stupefying him as they met his own, evoking images of sapphire jewels and a starry sky and… Good Lord, was her hair truly the shade of moonbeams?”
― Fenna Edgewood, Kiss Me, My Duke

“A beautiful woman is a jewel, a good woman, a treasure. You were my greatest treasure, my beautiful daughter.”
― Soroosh Shahrivar, Tajrish

“You are beautiful, Layla."
Layla gave a tiny shake of her head. "I didn't feel beautiful when I saw the women Jonas had brought to our bed. Don't get me wrong. I have no desire to be that thin. I like my curves. But it was like he was saying there was something wrong with me, and it made me even angrier because he was right." She attacked the burger like it was a Scooby Snack. Did she really not see her own beauty? Evan had been falling all over himself to get her into bed, and the dudes with the mason jars weren't the only ones who'd been checking her out in the bar.”
― Sara Desai, The Marriage Game

“Just then, I notice Mrs. Mulgrave giving the younger woman beside her a slight push in my direction.
"This is my daughter, Maisie. She will be your maid."
"Maisie?" I can't help blurting out in astonishment.
I hardly recognize her. The past seven years have transformed Maisie from a plain preteen into a beautiful young adult. I didn't expect her to be so... pretty. She wears a black tee with black pants, but the simple clothing and lack of makeup only enhances her looks. She has heavy-lidded deep brown eyes, clear skin with the hint of a tan, the kind of plush pink lips that housewives in my New York hometown would pay good money for, and long brown hair highlighted with strands of gold. Her only adornments are a thick wristwatch and a rectangular pendant hanging on a chain around her neck.
I feel a pang of sympathy as I look from mother to daughter. If Maisie's luck had been different---if she'd been born to parents like the Marinos---she could have had the world at her feet, instead of being shut up in a house working as a maid.”
― Alexandra Monir, Suspicion

“Guau. The girl in the garden was breathtakingly gorgeous. She had a petite frame, dark iridescent skin, and magnetic energy. Her haunting espresso-colored eyes hypnotized him. Ramón had to force himself to stop staring at her fabulous cleavage. But her curves didn't stop there. That ass was the kind that songs were written about. He could write one about her right now.”
― Alana Quintana Albertson, Ramón and Julieta

“Ramón gasped at the sight of her. The tight red dress she wore hugged her curves, worshipped them as if her body was a church. I feel a religious experience coming on.”
― Alana Quintana Albertson, Ramón and Julieta

“It is an ideal morning,' Audrey agreed. 'A few clouds, which gives the sun somewhere to show off the colors.'

'But it is not as beautiful as your smile.' Lord Dericott was staring at her now.

'You are flattering me.' She felt herself blushing, her mind flitting to their kisses and his declaration of love for her the previous day.

'It is not flattery but truth. I think your smile is more beautiful than the sunrise.'

'And I think you are the bravest and best man I know.”
― Melanie Dickerson, Castle of Refuge

“A beautiful woman is one hundred percent attractive in every place if no one other is with her.”
― Ehsan Sehgal

“Is she pretty?”
That would be a hell yes. Big soft eyes, full pink lips. Legs and tight skirts. And those damn cowboy boots. And the yoga pants and bra top she wore sailing. Long blond hair—-at least he thought it was long; she always kept it wound up and clipped in a messy bun. He’d dated white girls before, a time or two. But never someone that white, from Texas. Or that young. She was what, fifteen years younger, at least. An itty-bitty thing who could throw a grown man to the ground.
“Yeah,” he said. “She’s real pretty.”
― Susan Wiggs, Sugar and Salt

“Does it hurt?" we finally heard her whisper, and in that moment, she was achingly beautiful, beautiful almost beyond belief: She was warmth, she was moisture, she was light, she was the adamant perfection of a million billion snowflakes in a split second's descent, she was tender, she was eternal, and she was memory, and she was love.”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey

“They are so beautiful: your words" She told me. And I said "No, you are!”
― Avijeet Das

“The only hint she might be a ghost was a hazy light that hovered around the edge of her body.”
― Shel Danielson, The Bell Tower Ghosts and Other Stories

“How happy and energized she looks when it's barely six in the morning. Her hair is tied up in the messiest, sexiest bun, and she's sprinkled in flour. All over her apron, on her arms, her jeans, and the tip of her nose.
My heart slingshots around my chest as I take in the sight of her.
She's so goddamn cute. And sexy. And stunning. And every other word that exists to describe just how amazing a person can look.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Laurel stood on stage. She was very still. Her lovely blue eyes were lowered modestly. Her silver blonde hair fell in disheveled curls around her face, white roses and strands of pearls woven artfully throughout. A necklace of what looked like diamonds clasped her slender throat while white kid gloves were drawn up to her elbow. She held a fan of frosted silver in one hand, dangling at her side.
Her dress was a shimmering sapphire blue, and it fit her exquisitely, molding to her form, hugging her small bosom and lifting her breasts until they appeared ready to spill from the satin bodice. A silver braided sash cinched her waist, emphasizing its narrowness.
And then, she lifted her head, raised the hand that held the fan, then the other one and, tipping her head back, opened her eyes.
They were haunting and luminous, soft in the candlelight. Her skin was pale and smooth.
The crowd was utterly quiet, watching her.
And then, she began to sing.
If Dare had thought Laurel Spencer beautiful before, now she became goddess-like to him in an instant as a melody so heart-wrenching and lovely spilled forth from her lips.”
― Fenna Edgewood, Kiss Me, My Duke

“Piercing green eyes, luscious lips, a soothing voice and a mind more infinite than the universe.”
― Soroosh Shahrivar, Tajrish

“A beautiful woman is not a complete experience in the life of a man, neither is a feminine woman. But a sensual woman is.”
― Lebo Grand

“There is nothing more beautiful than looking into the eyes of nature, not unless one is looking into the eyes of the woman they love.”
― Kenan Hudaverdi, Emotional Rhapsody

“She was not beautiful, but she had a pleasant face, the sort that would wear well through life, becoming more attractive as she grew older.”
― Donna Leon, Suffer the Little Children

“Now, beauty is not a size or a shape, an outfit or a color. Real beauty is something that shines. The rest is only glamour. This girl was both dark and luminous, like a copper beech in the sun. Luminous was her brown skin, and her eyes were every shade of leaf, from guinea gold to forest-floor black. She was wearing a yellow dress. Her hair was a crown of autumn fire. And yes, she was very beautiful. But her beauty was none of these things. And although by the time she had left, Tom could barely remember her clothes, or the shape of her face, or the color of her eyes, or the exact shade of her skin, he knew he would always remember that shine.”
― Joanne Harris, The Moonlight Market

“साड़ी और सादगी का मिलन ही कुछ ऐसा होता है, अगर ये एक हो जाए तो उस मिलन की खूबसूरती से कोई न��़रे नहीं हटा सकता, क्यूंकि बिना दीदार किए चेहरे की चमक ही नहीं रचती ♾”
― Bhaskar Gautam

“Except that it was not fog but a body forming before her eyes out of a stream reflecting golden sunlight, a yellow checkered tablecloth, and the bones of two hundred goldfinches.
Donkey forgot how to breathe. She opened the door wider and in doing so somehow flipped the contents of the hot pan onto the porch planks. Now the figure was fully conjured, tipping back in the chair, as Donkey was forbidden to do. There was Rose Thorn with her bare brown feet resting on the table, legs crossed at her slender ankles, her hands clasped behind her head, shiny hair as windblown as feathers. All around her, in the mid-morning haze, golden light fingered upward. Rosie was as perfect as a perfect number with all her factors adding up to make the sum of her, and the whole day felt fresh and breezy.”
― Bonnie Jo Campbell, The Waters

“Later that morning, Irena's official Instagram posted a picture of Irena onstage, wearing a red dress, strappy heels, and an orange shawl that she spread out like wings. She was standing in front of a spotlight, and her outline glowed, and in its fineness, the image of her shawl was made up almost exclusively of light.”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey