A Quote by James Carlos Blake

If a woman has a good ass the rest of her wil be nicely configured too, except for maybe the face. The face is always on its own. — © James Carlos Blake
If a woman has a good ass the rest of her wil be nicely configured too, except for maybe the face. The face is always on its own.
The good enough mother, owing to her deep empathy with her infant, reflects in her face his feelings; this is why he sees himselfin her face as if in a mirror and finds himself as he sees himself in her. The not good enough mother fails to reflect the infant's feelings in her face because she is too preoccupied with her own concerns, such as her worries over whether she is doing right by her child, her anxiety that she might fail him.
I don't want water!" Sarah cries, her face buried against my chest. I can't see what's going on in the rest of the lobby beacuse Sarah's hair is flying up in my face, blocking my view. I want justice!" she wails. Well, we'll get you some of that too." Magda has appeared from out of nowhere. "Maybe there's some in the freezer.
What woman here is so enamored of her own oppression that she cannot see her heel print upon another woman's face?
After forty a woman has to choose between losing her figure or her face. My advice is to keep your face, and stay sitting down.
The woman was silent, her eyes on the floor. Shimamura had come to a point where he knew he was only parading his masculine shamelessness, and yet it seemed likely enough that the woman was familiar with the failing and need not be shocked by it. He looked at her. Perhaps it was the rich lashes of the downcast eyes that made her face seem warm and sensuous. She shook her head very slightly, and again a faint blush spread over her face.
Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story.
She paints her face to hide her face. Her eyes are deep water. It is not for Geisha to want. It is not for geisha to feel. Geisha is an artist of the floating world. She dances, she sings. She entertains you, whatever you want. The rest is shadows, the rest is secret.
A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction.
She's kind of funny looking. Her face is out of balance--broad forehead, button nose, freckled cheeks, and pointy ears. A slammed-together, rough sort of face you can't ignore. Still, the whole package isn't so bad. For all I know maybe she's not so wild about her own looks, but she seems comfortable with who she is, and that's the important thing.
What is a face, really? Its own photo? Its make-up? Or is it a face as painted by such or such painter? That which is in front? Inside? Behind? And the rest? Doesn't everyone look at himself in his own particular way? Deformations simply do not exist.
She really started to cry, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing her all over - anywhere - her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her eyebrows, and all, her ears - her whole face except her mouth and all.
I always encourage women to let their individuality show by not covering up what they perceive as flaws. When I see a woman with the natural wrinkles of time on her face, I do not see the wrinkles at all, but when I see a woman trying to cover them up with too much foundation or concealer, all I see are her wrinkles.
How much fame, money and power does a woman have to achieve on her own before you can punch her in the face?
Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
A woman is always a mystery: one must not be fooled by her face and her hearts inspiration.
Ever had a woman say no to you, Dmitri?” “Once.” He turned the corner with a smile that made her want to cup his face, trace those beautiful lips with her own. “I married her.
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