Beautiful From Inside Quotes

Everyone wants to look beautiful. No one wants to be beautiful! ~ Avijeet Das

From so high above it, the world seems ordered and deliberate.

But I know it's more than that. And less. It is structured and chaotic. Beautiful and strange. ~ Nicola Yoon

to be more confidence you need to give a whole lot less of a shit about what other people think of you

Confidence is not something you feel or possess, it's something others use to describe what they see when they look at you

Forbid yourself to wonder what "they" are thinking

Confidence is a reduction of your own interest in whether others are thinking about you and if so what they're thinking

You are the only the person you actually are; you may not may not be the person they actually want

Because all of us are made not only of what we have but of what we lost.

And loss is not a subtraction. As an experience, it is an addition.

You do not need to work through your past so you can heal. You need to move forward and then you're as healed as you're likely to be

Pain can make you want to die. Discomfort can make you want to kill. Chronic discomfort itself can be deadly

Letting go of a dream because it cannot be yours is not failing.

If you have children and your spouse is abusing them physically, mentally, or sexually, leave now.
It never takes courage to leave.
It takes love.

..everything there is was born from a collision.
Inside every single thing that lives is a debt to a distant star that died.
Nothing new is ever created without one thing colliding into another ~ Augusten Burroughs

We are all lies waiting for the day when we will break free from our cocoon and become the beautiful truth we waited for. ~ Shannon L. Alder

In German, a young lady has no sex, while a turnip has. Think what overwrought reverence that shows for the turnip, and what callous disrespect for the girl. See how it looks in print - I translate this from a conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school books: "Gretchen. Wilhelm, where is the turnip? "Wilhelm. She has gone to the kitchen. "Gretchen. Where is the accomplished and beautiful English maiden? "Wilhelm. It has gone to the opera. ~ Mark Twain

I'd faced a lot of rejection from labels and the industry, and it was getting hard to keep believing in myself. But something wouldn't let me - inside - I had this voice that was relentlessly hopeful, and honestly, I just loved performing and writing too much to ever really quit. ~ Rachel Platten

The lengths we went to as a society to crush someone of such modest ambitions-Garner's big dream was to someday sit down at work-were awesome to contemplate. What happened to Garner spoke to the increasing desperation of white America to avoid having to even see, much less speak to or live alongside, people like him.
Half a century after the civil rights movement, white Americans do not want to know this man. They don't want him walking in their neighborhoods. they want him moved off the corner. Even white liberals seem to, deep down inside, if the policies they advocate and the individual choices they make are any indication.
The police are blamed for these deaths, and often rightly so, but the highly confrontational, physically threatening strategies cops such as Daniel Pantaleo employ draw their power from the tacit approval of upscale white voters. Whether they admit it or not, many voters would rather that Eric Garner be dead and removed from view somewhere than living and eating Cheetos on the stoop next door. ~ Matt Taibbi

Kids didn't just disappear unless someone made them disappear.'Relax, mate,' the head of security said. 'We've never lost one yet.' Lots of kids wandered off at the Easter Show, he told them. They were always found, usually somewhere near the food.Doug had tried to relax, to stay calm, but he could feel the panic building inside him.The place was too big.There were too many people.Lockie could be anywhere. The police were called. It took hours for everyone to leave the showgrounds because every family was stopped. Every parent was questioned and every child identified. It was way past midnight when everyone had finally gone home, and still they had not found Lockie.The head of security changed his tone. The police held whispered conversations in groups. They began to look at him with sympathy in their eyes.Doug felt his heart slow down. There was a ringing in his ears. He was underwater and he couldn't swim.Lockie was gone.They had lost one.Sammy had gone from impatience to hunger to exhaustion. She didn't understand what was happening.Sarah sat next to the pram twisting her hands. She did not cry. She didn't cry for days, but every time Doug went near her he could hear her muttering the word 'please'. 'Please, please, please, please.' It drove Doug mad and he had to move away because he wanted to hit her, to snap her out of her trance. He had never lifted a hand to his wife or his children, but now he had to close his fist and dig his nails into his palm to keep himself from ~ Nicole Trope

Because Rhy didn't need his protection, not anymore, and he'd only told a partial truth when he said they both needed this.
The whole truth was, Rhy needed it more.
Because Kell had given him a gift he did not want, could never repay.
He'd always envied his brother 's strength.
And now, in a horrible way, it was his.
He was immortal.
And he hated it.
And he hated that he hated it. Hated that he'd become the thing he never wanted to be, a burden to his brother, a source of pain and suffering, a prison. Hated that if he'd had a choice, he would have said no. Hated that he was grateful he hadn't had a choice, because he wanted to live, even if he didn't deserve to.
But most of all, Rhy hated the way his living changed how Kell lived, the way his brother moved through life as if it were suddenly fragile. The black stone, and whatever lived inside it, and for a time in Kell, had changed his brother, woken something restless, something reckless. Rhy wanted to shout, to shake Kell and tell him not to shy away from danger on his account, but charge toward it, even if it meant getting hurt.
Because Rhy deserved that pain.
He could see his brother suffocating beneath the weight of it. Of him.
And he hated it.
And this gesture - this foolish, mad, dangerous gesture - was the best he could do.
The most he could do. ~ V.E. Schwab

Energy doesn't come to us so much from the things around us-although we can absorb energy directly from some plants and sacred sites. Sacred energy comes from our connection to the divine inside us. ~ James Redfield

You act young," he said, "because you are young. But you know things, Roza. Things people older than you don't even know. That day...." I knew instantly which day he referred to. The one up against the wall. "You were right, about how I fight to stay in control. No one else has ever figured that out- and it scared me. You scare me."
"Why? Don't you want anyone to know?"
He shrugged. "Whether they know that fact or not doesn't matter. What matters is that someone- that you- know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend."
"Like Tasha."
"Tasha Ozera is an amazing woman. She's beautiful and she's brave. But she doesn't-"
"She doesn't get you," I finished.
He nodded. "I knew that. But I still wanted the relationship. I knew it would be easy and that she could take me away from you. I thought she could make me forget you."
I'd thought the same thing about Mason. "But she couldn't."
"Yes. And, so.....that's a problem. ~ Richelle Mead

Hatred could not be the basis of her resolution to fight. It provided no access to her own qi, her vital spirit. That was the deepest truth she knew about fighting. It's what she learned from her father and Sensei: fight from the peaceful place inside, from her father's place. ~ Jacques Antoine

A great, spreading beech tree sheltered the entire backyard. Its beautiful, perfectly symmetrical canopy stretched from one fence line to the other, so dense that it tinted even the hottest summer day a lush green. Only the heaviest rain could penetrate the leaves. Blue had a satchelful of memories of standing by the massive, smooth trunk in the rain, hearing it hiss and tap and scatter across the canopy without ever reaching the ground. Standing under the beech tree, it felt like she was the beech, like the rain rolled off her leaves and off the bark, smooth as skin against her own. With ~ Maggie Stiefvater

What (Ada asks) are eyes anyway? Two holes in the mask of life. What (she asks) would they mean to a creature from another corpuscle or milk bubble whose organ of sight was (say) an internal parasite resembling the written word "deified"? What, indeed, would a pair of beautiful (human, lemurian, owlish) eyes mean to anybody if found lying on the seat of a taxi? ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Reading, writing, and personal introspection will not protect us from hardship and suffering, but they might introduce us to critical thinking and expose us to what is good in humankind and beautiful in the world that we share with all of nature. Contemplative thought, especially that supplemented with reading literature and attempting to write our own replies to the echoing voices of writers whom preceded us provide us with the potentiality for change, the possibility of personal illumination that enables us to experience a heighted quality of life. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

Far from such din, when blessed silence returns, I can listen to the butterflies that flutter inside my head. To hear them, one must be calm and pay close attention, for their wingbeats are barely audible. Loud breathing is enough to drown them out. This is astonishing: my hearing does not improve, yet I hear them better and better. I must have butterfly hearing. ~ Jean-Dominique Bauby

Then go," Dan said. When Nathaniel looked back at her, she stressed, "But come back to us as soon as they're done with you, okay? We'll figure this out as a team." "As a family." Nicky attempted a smile. It was weak, but it was encouraging. This had to be a cruel dream. Their forgiveness threatened to burn Nathaniel up from the inside-out, as healing as it was damning. He didn't deserve their friendship or their trust. He'd never be able to repay them for rallying behind him like this. He could try the rest of his life, however long it was going to be now that Stuart was in the picture and Nathan was out, and he'd always fall short. ~ Nora Sakavic

These are the ashes of fiery weather,
Of nights full of the green stars from Ireland,
Wet out of the sea, and luminously wet,
Like beautiful and abandonded refugees. ~ Wallace Stevens

Holy shit.
I've just been having one of the best days in my life. If not the best.
I have a feeling of peace inside of me as I write this...

I was just talking to a friend of mine about the fact that I find it hard to enjoy good moments sometimes, because of a fear that it may be taken away at any moment. And the truth is it can. This is not just anxiety, it is what's accurate. One of the most important things then is to know that I'm good with everyone I want to be good with, come what may. That the people I love know that I love them. And at this point in my life, I feel that is the case. I have no regrets. From that place, it's easier to enjoy what's going on. I'm not holding onto anything or anyone for dear life... I can't. Life just kinda makes that impossible...

The other most important thing is this: acknowledging those moments that are worth noting and remembering, like today. My life is not perfect by any means--there is plenty that I could be fretting about at any given moment... In fact, part of my life is a shit-storm at the moment..! But today I chose not to concentrate on that. I was present, I was here, I was happy. And I would like to add to that: I Am here. And I am happy. Despite everything. ~ Janita

And now, dear Emma, I'll show you just what you have to be wary of," he said, and his head moved down, blotting out the light.
This was no slow, sensuous caress of mouth and lip. This was no chaste salute, nor was it the wet awkwardness of an untried boy or a randy old man. He opened his mouth over hers and kissed her, using his tongue, his teeth, and all the clever weapons he had in his arsenal.
She told herself she was being kissed by a practiced rake. She told herself it meant nothing, it was a trick, an act, a small skill that anyone could acquire. She told herself that as her body trembled and melted beneath him, as her mouth opened to his skillful insistence. She told herself it meant absolutely nothing as his tongue pushed into her mouth, and the moan that came from deep inside her had to be one of displeasure, didn't it?
It wasn't one kiss, it was twenty, it was a long series of unending kisses, leading one into another, so that she barely had time to begin to regain her sanity when he stripped it away once more. He kissed her eyelids, the side of her mouth, the beating pulse at the base of her neck. He kissed her nose and her chin, he bit her earlobe, and then he covered her mouth once more, kissing her with a devastating thoroughness that had her damp and trembling in his arms.
His hands were on her petticoats, slowly drawing them up her long legs, and her hips cradled him. He was hard against her, she belatedly recognized that fact, and the kno ~ Anne Stuart

Arrogance makes you stronger from outside, but even more weaker from inside. ~ Ujas Soni

The text message she'd received last night from the unknown number left her sick inside. It had been curt and to the point: Stay away from my husband. The terse message came with a photo of Gabe with a pretty brunette. ~ Lena Hart

No man sings as beautifully as when his song is accompanied by a woman's voice. ~ Roman Payne

Even though it is common knowledge in our field of Neuroscience, I take immense pleasure every time I realize that our perception of the whole universe emerges from the activity of the little specks of jelly inside our skull. ~ Abhijit Naskar

Books were an antidepressant, a powerful SSRI. She'd always been one of those girls with socked feet tucked under her, her mouth slightly open in stunned, almost doped-up concentration. All written words danced in a chain for her, creating corresponding images as clear as the boy from Iran's bouncing family. She had learned to read before kindergarten, when she'd first suspected that her parents weren't all that interested in her. Then she'd kept going, plowing through children's books with their predictable anthropomorphism, heading eventually into the strange and beautiful formality of the nineteenth century, and pushing backward and forward into histories of bloody wars, into discussions of God and godlessness. What she responded to most powerfully, sometimes even physically, were novels. Once Greer read Anna Karenina for such a long, unbroken bout that her eyes grew strained and bloodshot, and she had to lie in bed with a washcloth over them as if she herself were a literary heroine from the past. Novels had accompanied her throughout her childhood, that period of protracted isolation, and they would probably do so during whatever lay ahead in adulthood. Regardless of how bad it got at Ryland, she knew that at least she would able to read there, because this was college, and reading was what you did. ~ Meg Wolitzer

Like a sun: but a small sun, which she had within her, warming her from the inside out. She was conscious of a feeling she had had before, a sense that she was looking at him, and at all of them, from some far way off, or from a great height. There had been a time when she seemed to herself to be snug, and small, within the large house of Smokey, a safe inhabitant, room to run in yet never leave his encompassment. Now she oftener felt otherwise: over time it was he who seemed to have become a mouse within the house of her. ~ John Crowley

The unlike is joined together, and from differences results the most beautiful harmony. ~ Heraclitus

Jesus did not pay the penalty for our misdeeds so we can continue disobeying God with abandon; rather, in dying on the cross, Jesus not only canceled our spiritual debt but also cured our spiritual disease. When we put our trust in Christ, He forgives our sins and also begins the work of changing us from the inside to become holy and loving like Him, and like God our Father. Jesus does this through the Holy Spirit, whom He sent. Salvation by grace does not mean we stay impure sinners forever. Rather, it means that God forgives all our sins and does for us what we cannot do for ourselves by paying the penalty for our sins and working to eliminate sin from our lives. He does this in two stages: while we are mortal, the Holy Spirit changes our hearts so that we begin to live in a way that is more pleasing to God, even though we still commit sin; and then in the resurrection at the end of history, we will be made morally and spiritually perfect beings. ~ Nabeel Qureshi

His own voice was older than he was. Ancient, unearthed from some mystical subterranean place ... The voice seemed to make his whole body ache. Maybe it made him bleed inside. I wondered if it hurt, if it burned in his throat. ~ Francesca Lia Block

You can't fit the same religion to every man any mo' than you can the same pair of breeches. The big man takes the big breeches an' the little man takes the small ones, an' it's jest the same with religion. It may be cut after one pattern, but it's might apt to get its shape from the wearer inside. Why, thar ain't any text so peaceable that it ain't drawn blood from somebody. ~ Ellen Glasgow

When we put our running shoes on and fight tooth and nail to hide from someone, it's because that's the person who really matters. That's the one person you fear will see what's inside you and cringe. You'd rather live with the not-knowing than to give it a chance. ~ Rebel Farris

You can listen to silence, Reuven. I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own. It talks to me sometimes. I feel myself alive in it. It talks. And I can hear it.
...
You have to want to listen to it, and then you can hear it. It has a strange, beautiful texture. It doesn't always talk. Sometimes - sometimes it cries, and you can hear the pain of the world in it. It hurts to listen to it then. But you have to. ~ Chaim Potok

It is noted that from 1967 to 1995 essays on negative emotions far outnumbered those on positive emotions in the psychological literature. The ratio was 21:1. Even those supreme perpetrators of pop nihilism, The New York Times and The Washington Post, have a better ratio than psychological literature. They average 12 negative stories to every one that might be construed to be non-negative. Many of their non-negative stories, however, cover success in sports and entertainment.

I demand that the purveyors of despair who pretend to be dispassionate observes of the human condition go ahead and disclose that the 10 most beautiful words in the English languages are chimes, dawn, golden, hush, lullaby, luminous, melody, mist, murmuring, and tranquil; that Java sparrows prefer the music of Back over that of Schoenberg; that math experts have determined there are 1/96 trillion ways to lace up your shoes; that the Inuit term for making love is translated as 'laughing together in bed;' and that according to Buckminster Fuller, "pollution is nothing but resources we're not harvesting. ~ Rob Brezsny

Oh, good, it worked," Archer said, his ghostly face relieved. Unlike Elodie, his voice came in loud and clear, and so familiar that my heart broke all over again.
I stood frozen, my back against the door. Even though he was faint, I could see him smirk.
"Um…Mercer? Haven't seen you in nearly a month. I was expecting something like, 'Oh, Cross, love of my heart, fire of my loins, how I've longed-"
"You're dead," I blurted out, pressing a hand against my stomach. "You're a ghost, and you think-"
All the humor disappeared from his face, and he held up both hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not dead. Promise."
My heart was still hammering. "Then what the heck are you?"
Archer almost looked sheepish as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out some kind of amulet on a thin silver chain. "It's a speaking stone. Lets you appear to people kind of like a hologram. You know. 'Help me, Sophie-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope.'"
"Did you steal it from the cellar at Hecate, too?" Archer had collected all sorts of magical knickknacks back when we had cellar duty at Hex Hall.
"No," he said, offended. "I found it at a…store. For magical stuff. Okay, yes, I stole it from the cellar."
I rushed across the room and thrust my fist at his solar plexus. It went right through him, but it was still kind of satisfying. "You jerk!" I cried, striking at his head. "You scared me to death! Cal said The Eye probably had you, and I thought they'd found out about you and ~ Rachel Hawkins

She couldn't quite see herself in it. When they were done, I read the Shakespeare sonnet that begins "Fear no more the heat o' the Sun," partly because it was appropriate to the occasion and one of the most beautiful poems in the language, but also because I hoped it might hide from my loved ones the fact that I myself had nothing to say, that while part of me was here with them on this beloved shore, another part was wandering, as it had been for months, in a barren, uninhabited landscape not unlike the one in my dream. I realized I'd felt like this for a while. Though life had gone on since my mother's death - Kate had gotten married, I'd finally published another book and gone on tour with it - some sort of internal-pause button had been pushed, allowing another part of me, one I'd specifically kept sequestered to deal with my mother, to fall silent. Since her death, Barbara and I had gone through all her things and settled her affairs, but we'd barely spoken of her. ~ Richard Russo

Maybe we should always start everything from the inside and work to the outside, and not from the outside to the inside. What d'you think? ~ Aidan Chambers

The most compelling insight of that day was that this awesome recall had been brought about by a fraction of a gram of a white solid, but that in no way whatsoever could it be argued that these memories had been contained within the white solid. Everything I had recognized came from the depths of my memory and my psyche. I understood that our entire universe is contained in the mind and the spirit. We may choose not to find access to it, we may even deny its existence, but it is indeed there inside us, and there are chemicals that can catalyze its availability. ~ Alexander Shulgin

Eventually this all passes. The public horrors of today eventually blow away. And, yes, you are changed by the awful wake of reckoning they leave behind. Hopefully in the process you don't lose your ability to throw your arms in the air again and spin in wild abandon. That is the ultimate F.U. and - finally - the most beautiful survival tool of all. Don't let them take that away from you. ~ Jodie Foster