A Quote by John M. Lyle

Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend. — © John M. Lyle
Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend.
Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish
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.
I love the Fashion Fair Concealer Wheel. That's my little secret. It comes with three colors in it. What I like about it is that you could almost cover your whole face in it if you want because you can mix the colors to create the perfect shade that works with your skin.
People don't want to see wrinkles, because if they see wrinkles in actors then they have to face that they have wrinkles, too. They'd rather see perfection up there. And so then you get rocket scientists who are 22 years old.
That fair face will as years roll on lose its beauty, and old age will bring its wrinkles to the brow.
When in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before anyone is awake, I go for the time being into perfect happiness. In this hour divinely fresh and still, the fair face of every flower salutes me with a silent joy. . . . All the cares, perplexities, and griefs of existence, all the burdens of life slip from my shoulders and leave me with the heart of a little child that asks nothing beyond the present moment of innocent bliss.
I've earned every wrinkle on my face. I actually like my wrinkles. And guess what? There are a lot of 60-year-old men who have wrinkles, no hair, glasses, and nobody gives a damn.
It is not like adding wrinkles to look older; it is using the wrinkles I already have to say something else. What is disturbing is not seeing more lines on my face but seeing that the range of possibilities of what I can do is much more limited.
I don't fancy colors of the face, I'm always attracted to colors of the brain.
Now the Earth's face is lathered white with shaving soap It's a long time till the razor once more makes its face smooth and fresh and green.
The only problem is, that the musicians, the guys, their careers can go from the time they're 18 'till they're 50 years old and when they get wrinkles, they're 'character lines.' But when girls get 'em, they're wrinkles!
Dear Lord, who made the face of me not all that I would have it be, not really homely, only plain, but strong and patient in the main. Yet one, a man apart, who found me fair and gave his heart. Now Lord, that I have grown more sage . . . into middle age. I only ask, as face grows lines of countenance, it be described as kind; that wrinkles by my eyes will show a little humor as I go; that I may view my humble scene with glance of one content, serene, through grateful, shining eyes that see the blessings you have given me.
Black, white and nude are my essential colors. Each time I start a collection, I start with these colors; they are the elemental colors we refer to from the beginning.
Some other memories of the funeral have stuck in my mind. The old boy’s face, for instance, when he caught up with us for the last time, just outside the village. His eyes were streaming with tears, of exhaustion or distress, or both together. But because of the wrinkles they couldn’t flow down. They spread out, crisscrossed, and formed a smooth gloss on the old, worn face.
Sometimes I think he’s the kind of friend that grownups call a ‘fair-weather friend.’ That means when everything’s going smoothly, he’s the best friend a guy could want. But as soon as something goes wrong…(he) sort of turns on you.
Beauty is God's handwriting — a wayside sacrament; welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank for it Him.
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