By Estée Lauder
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.
Look, whenever I hear or read I’m beautiful, I simply don’t understand it … I’m certainly not beautiful in any conventional way. I didn’t make my career on beauty.
The beauty in a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart; the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
And the beauty of a woman, with passing years, only grows!
A woman can be beautiful as well as intellectual.
Poetry, is a life long war waged against ineffable beauty.
We all wear scars, find someone who makes yours feel beautiful.
It was her chaos that made her beautiful.
Why shouldn’t I live every moment to the fullest? Why shouldn’t I admire the beauty in every fragment?
Concentration, Confidence, Competitive urge, Capacity for enjoyment.
Concentration comes out of a combination of confidence and hunger.
Our government is founded upon the intelligence of the people. I for one do not despair of the republic. I have great confidence in the virtue of the great majority of the people, and I cannot fear the result.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
People know there’s more than one side to me. You can have beauty and brains and athletic ability. You can switch up the cleats for heels once in a while. You can do both.
I have to look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that I’m beautiful, even if I don’t necessarily believe it.
I feel the most confident when I’m comfortable in workout clothes with my hair up in a ponytail.
What’s the point of truth or beauty or knowledge when anthrax bombs are popping all around you?
It was one of those evenings when men feel that truth, goodness and beauty are one. In the morning, when they commit their discovery to paper, when others read it written there, it looks wholly ridiculous.