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

“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

“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

“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

“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

“I knew I was toxic when you were in tears screaming at me, and all I could think was, 'Look how beautiful she is when she cries.”
― Mr. Joshua Shaw, I Took a Plane to Die in Denver

“साड़ी और सादगी का मिलन ही कुछ ऐसा होता है, अगर ये एक हो जाए तो उस मिलन की खूबसूरती से कोई नज़रे 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

“She made her easy way down the outside steps. "Are you trying to catch flies?" she asked, a laugh in her voice. "You must have seen a woman all made up before."
I closed my mouth. I felt like I'd never seen her before. Silky violet fabric hugged her body like it never wanted to let her go, dipping in at her waist and sweeping out at her hip. It ended just above her knees and made her curvy legs look like they went on forever before they got to her gold flats. When her raspberry-pink mouth curled in a warm smile, she glowed, and it was like a light bulb suddenly lit up in my head. I wasn't horny and restless because I hadn't gotten any in almost ten months.
It was because I wanted her. Only her.
I wanted to bite her lush lower lip, suck the sweet curve where her shoulder met her neck. I wanted to bury my face where her neckline curved down. I wanted to bury my face in a lot of other places, too.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“Whatever the case, apparently I do not possess a lick of sense when it comes to this girl--- this woman. She is all woman now. Her baby softness has melted away, leaving lush curves and elegant lines. Delilah Baker is a ripe peach, with pouty red "fuck me" lips.
"Don't go there, man," I groan in the dark. But I am there and can't escape.
Seeing her walk into my office was a kick to the chest and a hard tug to the balls. She was all jiggle and sway in the best of ways--- curvy hips, bouncing breasts, glossy hair floating around her shoulders.
And those red lips, like an exclamation point on the "go to hell, Macon" statement she made with each look my way. I have zero doubt Delilah wanted to nut me the entire time we talked.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“A beautiful young woman, too perfect to be real. A mannequin, a monster. Maybe somewhere in between.”
― Cate Ray, The Younger Woman

“Framed by the threshold, she was like one of Mucha's Seasons: the tingle of Winter, the seduction of Spring, the kiss of Fall, the warmth of Summer. She shrugged out of her coat, her violet hair spreading like ink across her loose white tee. Her lips were so red, stained like cherries, the tart kind that grew by his father's childhood home. Vishnya--- the word came back to him, his dad handing him a newsprint pouch, soft fruit inside.
He almost dropped the kitchen towel.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“When he finally saw her, every other person in that plaza seemed to vanish, his gaze tunneling toward her, the way she looked getting out of the cab, pulling a stray strand of violet hair away from her face, crossing the sidewalk in this unbelievable dress. Having no idea how beautiful she looked.
She started up the ivory stairs--- layers of pale lavender tulle floating around her, a long skirt she had gathered in front--- like a living confection, a cotton candy dream.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste