...the moon that hung over the garden like some great priceless pearl, flawed and blemished with grey shadowy ridges as only a very great beauty can risk being.
People are crying up the rich and variegated plumage of the peacock, and he is himself blushing at the sight of his ugly feet.
Women are all the same; we want to be smaller in the waist, longer legs, slimmer. I design for women and their defects, to make them better.
In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.
Against Him those women sin who torment their skin with potions, stain their cheeks with rouge and extend the line of their eyes with black coloring. Doubtless they are dissatisfied with God's plastic skill. In their own persons they convict and censure the Artificer of all things.
You'll never see me with a precision flick of eyeliner. Messy eyeliner became my thing by accident rather than design. If you can't get it straight, then just work it in around your eyes.
A New York casting director, who shall remain nameless, once said to me, 'Marcia, you have what I call the flaring-nostril look, and until you get something done about it, you will never, ever work.'
The perfect human being is uninteresting-the Buddha who leaves the world, you know. It is the imperfections of life that are lovable.
We make such terrible mistakes with visual choices about beauty.
Even beauties can be unattractive. If you catch a beauty in the wrong light at the right time, forget it. I believe in low lights and trick mirrors. I believe in plastic surgery.
To all apparent beauties blind, each blemish strikes an envious mind.
