Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Lustrous. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Lustrous Quotes And Sayings by 99 Authors including Anna Campbell,William Collins,D.h. Lawrence,Stanislaw Lem,H.w. Brands for you to enjoy and share.
Unholy delight lit Giles's dark face to flashing brilliance. She realized that while he mightn't be handsome, he was breathtakingly attractive and brimming with potent masculinity more powerful than mere good looks.
In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.
His suave loins of darkness, dark-clad and suave
She was beautiful all right, beautiful in a way that was at once seductive, demonic, and raspberry.
coltish-looking,
Adornment, what a science! Beauty, what a weapon! Modesty, what elegance!
Lust is the devil's counterfeit for love. There is nothing more beautiful on earth than a pure love and there is nothing so blighting as lust.
Elegantly yet beastly, caring yet deadly, she comes down to me.
Eschew all those beastly adjectives ...
Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
She was clever, and beautiful, and hard as burnished bronze.
Soap shining beauty.
He had always thought her beautiful - for a peasant girl. But with that golden hair falling around her, it made her face and eyes glow like some kind of enchantment. He was thinking like an addle-headed knave.
His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary lustre borrowed from the salubrious air and genial sun.
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
Beautiful. Worthy of the highest love. Powerful and perfect. Beautiful is my daughter.
Lust is an enemy to the purse, a foe to the person, a canker to the mind, a corrosive to the conscience, a weakness of the wit, a besotter of the senses, and finally, a mortal bane to all the body.
His gaze was heat across her cheeks, her lips. It was touch. His eyes were hypnotic, his brows black and velvet. He was copper and shadow, honey and menace, the severity of knife-blade cheekbones and a widow's peak like the point of a dagger.
She seemed exotic and strange, a mysterious siren with devilish companions and spell-caught whorls that gleamed alluringly all over her pearl skin.
Nothing sparkly can stay.
the way the dew sparkled as if a careless hand had spilled a thousand translucent gemstones on the lush green blades
So bright and golden and fair, so free fro shadow and so lavish of blossom.
He had sleepless eyes, his mouth a little swollen, the deeply tanned skin somehow burnished. Kestrel thought that she, too, must look like this: polished by desire, the way a river stone holds a luster from having been made so smooth.
Annoyingly attractive
He was beautiful, but even more so in his formal attire, with his dark hair and pale eyes. His glistening sword hung at his side, and his tall boots shined in the candlelight. The
It seems impossible, in fact, to judge the eye using any word other than seductive, since nothing is more attractive in the bodies of animals and men. But extreme seductiveness is probably at the boundary of horror.
She was like steel. It was in her eyes, and in her voice, and in the fine, shining look of her. From the sparkling ankles to the expensive-crink of a hat. She looked sexy and untouchable, the way they can look if they want. She looked expensive.
You're elegance in a misunderstood form. Crystal quartz in a world of platinum. Oh, my dizzy boy, there's a fire in you that I use to warm my hands on chilly mornings.
Hedge was enthralled by her symmetry, yet the word was too cool and dry. She was beautiful.
She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a contradictory subtle play of features.
Heat in her birds of prey fingertips, smoke of gilded flowers in her aureate gorging hair.
Lust was a positive high-tension cable, plugged into my core, activating a near-epileptic seizure of conviction that this was the one thing I had to do in life.
His skin shimmered with veins of pure gold
iridescent, like a blue butterfly.
Damon, leather and silk and fine chiseled features. Mercurial and devastating.
You're hard sometimes, but you're genuine and easy to love. You give people everything you have to give, Silas. You're a rough diamond amongst pearls. You look like a dirty stone amongst the sheen, but your value far exceeds the silky dull shine of a pearl.
Ardent
yet chill and formal,
how I ache
to tempt a chisel
as a sculptor.
The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own.
Her light brown eyes were the color of sherry, fringed with long, thick, gold-tipped lashes.
It was like being pleased by a thorn blush, feeling fond of every prickle.
Chaste with a chance of inveterate lust.
She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal.
O lust, thou infernal fire, whose fuel is gluttony; whose flame is pride, whose sparkles are wanton words; whose smoke is infamy; whose ashes are uncleanness; whose end is hell.
beautiful is the new gold/
honest-to-goodness beauty
drop-dead gorgeous.
His name was as exotic as his looks. The deadly combination of lush chocolate brown hair, those intense pale blue eyes and his lithe figure that just screamed he would look like a god naked, was too much for her.
He is proud of the lustre of his coat, and cannot endure that a hair of it shall lie the wrong way.
A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.
Ashryver eyes.
The fairest eyes, from legends old
of brightest, ringed with gold.
Strikingly tall, broad, a thick head of silky chestnut hair, olive skin and beautiful almond shaped eyes. His was a strong face, masculine, powerful. I disliked it greatly.
Too dear I prized a fair enchanting face: beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace.
Lust is a captivity of the reason and an enraging of the passions. It hinders business and distracts counsel. It sins against the body and weakens the soul.
In naked beauty more adorn'd, More lovely than Pandora.
She's like a queen, magnificently tall, with a lovely figure, a stately neck, and a face of the most delicate and finished modelling: the flow of surface from the temples over the cheek is exactly like the carving of a Phidean goddess
She is loveliness itself.
Drop-dead freshly fucked gorgeous.
One shining quality lends a lustre to another, or hides some glaring defect.
I ne'er could any luster seeIn eyes that would not look on me.
They are resplendent, and I am enraptured.
Too marvelous for words.
She was never without dark glasses, she was always well groomed, there was a consequential good taste in the plainness of her clothes, the blues and grays and lack of luster that made her, herself, shine so.
She's beautiful, delightful, elegant, exquisite, charming, divine, captivating, gorgeous, stunning, bewitching, admirable, and a million other inadequate words.
It feels almost soft, like something to be caressed. Only gold feels that way.
I think we can all agree. SHINEY.
Nothing but beauty and douceur
This love is thickly plaited.
something so regal and linear about her.
His eyelashes are like individual threads of spun gold lit on fire.
It's that heart of gold, and stardust shine that makes you beautiful.
Within each piece, I create an intriguing balance between jewelry and the body, and an intensity which draws others to it.
The ears were large, flaring forward, the eyes limpid amber, in which the pupil floated like a glittering jewel, changing color with shifts of the light: obsidian, emerald, ruby, opal, amethyst, diamond.
Gold hath no lustre of its own.
It shines by temperate use alone.
My Precious, my Precious.
thighs flesh rather than steel, her groin matted from the moisture of their passion. Her face is dark, the sun behind her, but he sees red flames dying in the multifaceted pits of her eyes. She smiles and he sees sunlight glint on rows of metal
A beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance.
The work of art, just like any fragment of human life considered in its deepest meaning, seems to me devoid of value if it does not offer the hardness, the rigidity, the regularity, the luster on every interior and exterior facet, of the crystal.
An appearance of delicacy, and even fragility, is almost essential to beauty.
Huge and shadowy, with that scent and aura of heat, with the pale gleam of gray irises through dark lashes, he was Lucifer after the Fall, beautiful and primal.
She was beautiful, without comparison, but she exuded and icy and emotionless aura. She was as hard and as cold as ice and it was difficult to tell whether she was pleased or angry.
Beautiful doesn't begin to describe it. A flower is beautiful. But this is beautiful the way that a person is beautiful- terrifying with its jagged edges, yet seductive with its crevices that hide so many secrets.
Beauty is certainly a soft, smooth, slippery thing, and therefore of a nature which easily slips in and permeates our souls.
Ardent, intelligent, sweet, sensitive, cultivated, erudite. These are the adjectives of praise in an androgynous world. Those who consider them epithets of shame or folly ought not to be trusted with leadership, for they will be men hot for power and revenge, certain of right and wrong.
A human life gains lustre and strength only when it is polished and tempered.
A look that was a little bit devious, and all sorts of charming. Cress
The color," he breathed. "When you stand in the light. They're amazing ... like molten gold. I could paint those ... " He reached toward me but then pulled back. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful." -Bloodlines
My soul is wrapped in harsh repose, Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes, But soft ... behold! A sunlight beam Butting a swath of glimmering gleam. My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it, Inspired by your beauty ... Effulgent.
He was fiercely beautiful in the way some young males are, as if their whole being were being lived through their eyes, and their large noses, and their ungainly limbs.
Glory be to God for dappled things.
("Pied Beauty")
Every move of his body sent ripples along those lean muscles. his flawless crystal skin practically dared people to see ifit felt as good as it loked - which it did.
Her nose was perfect; her lips exquisite. Like a master placing a go stone on the board after long deliberation, he placed the details of her beauty one by one in the misty dark and drew back to savour them.
It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble.
Beautiful like all the Shadowhunters were beautiful, like moonlight shearing off the edges of broken glass: lovely and deadly. Beautiful things, cruel things, cruel in that way that only people who absolutely believed in the rightness of their cause could be cruel.
perfection. She's pink and pretty and glistening and perfect.
The worst of lusts is vanity.
He was the most wickedly handsome creature she had ever seen in all her days. His hair was black as night, his stature large, his muscles were etched with precision into his smooth skin, every last ripple chiseled into wicked perfection.
She had a lot of face and chin. She had pewter-colored hair set in a ruthless permanent, a hard beak and moist eyes with the sympathetic expression of wet stones.
Mediaeval mythology, rich and gorgeous, is a compound like Corinthian brass, into which many pure ores have been fused, or it is a full turbid river drawn from numerous feeders, which had their sources in remote climes.
The shape of her head and the turn of her neck and bust were peculiarly noble, and the long golden-brown hair that floated like a cloud around it, the deep spiritual gravity of her violet blue eyes, shaded by heavy fringes of golden brown
The acute experience of great beauty readily evokes a nameless yearning for something more than earth can offer. Elegant splendor reawakens our spirit's aching need for the infinite, a hunger for more than matter can provide.
The rosy gleam of his lip, the fevered gleam of his eyes. There was not a line anywhere on his face, nothing creased or graying; all crisp. He was spring, golden and bright. Envious death would drink his blood, and grow young again.