I love watching faces as they grow up. It's the difference between so many strong British actresses compared to what America does to women. I like a face that hasn't been tampered with.

You know, everyone is always talking about plastic surgery, or the technology, what to do. I really think it's important to help yourself with the technology if you want to feel better, but I am absolutely against any kind of monstrous cuts of the body, lifting that is beyond recognition, this kind of stuff.

No one could have been nicer, classier nor better looking than Dick Clark. I've had a crush on him since I was a teenager.

A tattoo is graffiti on the temple of the body.

The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart.

In 1931, when Anwar was twelve, Mahatma Gandhi passed through the Suez Canal on his way to London to negotiate the fate of India. The ship stopped in Port Said, whereupon Egyptian journalists besieged the ascetic leader. The correspondent for Al-Ahram marveled that Gandhi was wearing "nothing but a scrap of cloth worth five piasters, wire rim glasses worth three piasters

In a world gone harsh, you must have the courage to be tender as a blossom and tough as a diamond.

Women are incredibly valuable, but often we have failed to express this to one another. Perhaps we have not heard it enough. Not in the media. Not in the church. Not in our homes. Not in the area of sexuality. Not in our relationships. As we realize and affirm our inherent value, our strengths will be magnified. What we will become will be increasingly apparent. The dark, shadowy mirror will clear, and our original role and the beauty it carries will be revealed.

I don't need to roar, for I hold the power of the whisper. I don't have to be black or white ... for I am the color and beauty of creation!

Love is the softest rose in the soul's garden.

She looked up with a certain anxiety. 'But you don't think I'm too plump, do you?' He shook his head.Like so much meat. 'You think I'm all right.' Another nod. 'In every way?' 'Perfect.' he said aloud. And inwardly, 'She thinks of herself that way. She doesn't mind being meat.

What I glory in is the civilized, middle way between stink and asepsis. Give me a little musk, a little intoxicating feminine exhalation, the bouquet of old wine and strawberries, a lavender bag under every pillow and potpourri in the corners of the drawing-room. Readable books, amusing conversation, civilized women, graceful art and dry vintage, music, with a quiet life and reasonable comfort?—that's all I ask for.