attractive

It's neither judgment nor judgment according to the status quo that we have a problem with, but rather judgment according to God's Word that we have a problem with. We sharply dress ourselves, go out into the world, shape ourselves, our personalities according to the world's standards and preferences, allow ourselves to be made dull by the world and its desires in order to appear successful and happy and attractive in the eyes of the world. We love the world's judgment but we hate God's judgment. Absurdly enough, the one that really matters, the one out of the purest of loves rather than a mere contract in hopes of mutual gain, is the one which we so adamantly try to shut ourselves off from.

Beauty is that which is simultaneously attractive and sublime.

It's attractive when girls have faith. That is a big thing for me.

What made women's labour particularly attractive to the capitalists was not only its lower price but also the greater submissiveness of women.

Strength on its own in a woman is quite abrasive and not terribly attractive all the time.

Gestures, in love, are incomparably more attractive, effective and valuable than words.

Zest is the secret of all beauty. There is no beauty that is attractive without zest.

I just run faster and hit the slowest of the lead boys. I wink and race by him. He smells like onions and he has big, wet circles in the pits of his shirt. He speeds up, but can only stay with me for a tenth of a mile before he drops back. Then it__ Nick.I cruise next to him. He__ some sort of running god, because he isn__ close to being winded. His stride is long, powerful, and quick.__i.__hy I said this, I do not know. He__ cute. Okay. I am a sucker for cute boys and he was nice to Issie. Plus, he has good hair and he isn__ as pale as most Maine males. He looks like he works in the sun, or at least has seen the sun once, maybe many weeks ago. Plus, life is all supposed to be about making love, not war. My dad listened to John Lennon; I know this stuff.__ou__e fast,_ he says, easy. No huffing. No puffing. No blowing the house down.__o are you.__e run together, keeping pace. The only one ahead of us is Ian, who is loping around the track as if it__ nothing.Nick shrugs at me while he runs, which is really something, because when I__ running full tilt it__ hard for me to speak, let alone break form to shrug.__ou can go faster, can__ you?_ I huff out.He just gives a little smile again and then his eyes shift into something cold, like gravestones with just the barest information about a life etched onto them.__ara,_ he whisper-says.I lean in closer to hear him. __hat?__y voice is not a whisper. It matches the thudding beat of my heart, the bass of the music that blares out of the speakers.__wesome job, new girl!_ Devyn yells, clapping.

A colorful body with fabrics, tattoos and jewelry is attractive, but a colorful heart with love, truth and faith is beautiful.

Wise man can make people hearmore lessons than words spoken.

Fame is vanity's bait.

I am an urchin, standing in the cold, elbowed aside by the glossy rich visitors in their fur coats and ostentatious jewellery, being fussed into the hotel by pompous-looking doormen. 'No problem. I'd better get home, actually Mr _ Gustav. A drink is very tempting, but maybe not such a good idea after all.' I pat my pockets. 'And I'm skint.' 'Pavements not paved with gold yet, eh?' He moves on along the facade of the grand hotel to the corner, and waits. He's staring not back at me but down St James Street. I wage a little war with myself. He's a stranger, remember. The newspaper headlines, exaggerated by the time they reach the office of Jake's local rag: Country girl from the sticks raped and murdered in London by suave conman. Even Poppy would be wagging her metaphorical finger at me by now. Blaming herself for not being there, looking out for me. But we're out in public here. Lots of people around us. He's charming. He's incredibly attractive. He's got a lovely deep, well spoken voice. And he's an entrepreneur who must be bloody rich if he owns more than one house. What the hell else am I going to do with myself when everyone else is out having fun? One thing I won't tell him is that my pockets might be empty, but my bank account is full. 'One drink. Then I must get back.' He doesn't answer or protest, but with a courtly bow he crooks his elbow and escorts me down St James. We turn right and into the far more subtle splendour of Dukes Hotel. 'Dress code?' I ask nervously, wiping my feet obediently on the huge but welcoming doormat and drifting ahead of him into the smart interior where domed and glassed corridors lead here and there. The foyer smells of mulled wine and candles and entices you to succumb to its perfumed embrace.

You're so blantantly attracted to me, it's hard not to tease you

A false potential can dress itself up as attractive ideas.

I had a dream that I had brown hair_I woke up and ran to the mirror_Phew! I__ still a blonde.

He was a drool-worthy, panty-drenching, yummy work of masculine art.

His face was like a law of nature__ thing one could not question, alter or implore. It had high cheekbones over gaunt, hollow cheeks; gray eyes, cold and steady; a contemptuous mouth, shut tight, the mouth of an executioner or a saint.

When selecting a one-night stand, a heterosexual woman who is materialistic is a trillion times more likely to choose a sexually unattractive poor man who seems rich over a sexually attractive rich man who seems poor.