... that face that could only be called homely.*
* And even then it was the kind of home that had a burned-out vehicle on the lawn. (MR)
* And even then it was the kind of home that had a burned-out vehicle on the lawn. (MR)
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She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not close up. (GO)
It was the special sort of beautiful area which is only beautiful if you can leave after briefly admiring its beauty and go somewhere else where there are hot tubs and cold drinks. Actually staying there for any length of time is a penance. (MP)
He opened his eyes. The girl was wearing a demure white lace dress with fetching puffed sleeves. He opened his mouth. He realised with absolute clarity that up until now the trouble he had been in was simple, modest and nothing he couldn’t talk his way out of given a decent chance or, failing that, a running start. (S
That’s old Twoflower. Rincewind thought. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate beauty, he just appreciates it in his own way. I mean, if a poet sees a daffodil he stares at it and writes a long poem about it, but Twoflower wanders off to find a book on botany. And treads on it. It’s right what Cohen says. He just looks at things, but nothing he looks at is ever the same again. Including me, I suspect. (LF)
… only blonde and blue-eyed girls could get the prince and wear the glittering crown. It was built into the world. Even worse, it was built into your hair colouring. Redheads and brunettes sometimes got more than a walk-on part in the land of the story, but if all you had was a rather mousy shade of brown hair you were marked down to be a serving girl. (ISWM)
She was, of course, beautiful. You seldom saw a goddess portrayed as ugly. This probably had something to do with their ability to strike people down instantly. (UA)
Truth is female, since truth is beauty rather than handsomeness, this Ridcully reflected as the Council grumbled in, would certainly explain the saying that a lie could run around the world before Truth has got its, correction, her boots on, since she would have to choose which pair – the idea that any woman in a position to choose would have just one pair of boots being beyond rational belief. (UA)
The lady in the boardroom was certainly an attractive woman, but since she worked for the Times Moist felt unable to award her total ladylike status. Ladies didn’t fiendishly quote exactly what you said but didn’t exactly mean, or hit you around the ears with unexpectedly difficult questions. Well, come to think of it, they did, quite often, but she got paid for it. (MM)
If you are a king your daughter will be beautiful. People have tried all kinds of aids to beauty, like washing in the morning dew, shoving yoghurt on their faces, etc, but for my money the best way to be beautiful is to have a dad with a lot of money and a bunch of armed men. It’s just amazin’ how people will spontaneously see what a beautiful princess you are in those circumstances. (NOC)
... Nanny Ogg was an attractive lady, which is not the same as being beautiful. She fascinated Casanunda. She was an incredibly comfortable person to be around, partly because she had a mind so broad it could accommodate three football fields and a bowling alley. (LL)
She smiled at him.
And then it arose and struck Vimes that, in her own special category, she was quite beautiful; this was the category of all the women, in his entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at. She couldn’t do worse, but then, he couldn’t do better. So maybe it balanced out. She wasn’t getting any younger but then, who was? And she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things that he didn’t, and she had opened her heart, and if you let her she could engulf you; the woman was a city. And eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done – unbar the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own. (GG) Sometimes the gods have no taste at all. They allow sunrises and sunsets in ridiculous pink and blue hues that any professional artist would dismiss as the work of some enthusiastic amateur who’d never looked at a real sunset. (TOT)
No one had asked her, before she was born, whether she’d want a lovely personality or whether she’d prefer, say, a miserable personality but a body that could take size 9 in dresses. Instead, people would take pains to tell her that beauty was only skin-deep, as if a man ever fell for an attractive pair of kidneys. (Ma)
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