The beautiful have so much easier a time of it than the ugly, don't you think? They get smiled at the whole time. Strangers offer them things. People notice the beautiful; the beautiful are constantly acknowledged.
Isn't friendship amazing? At one time, our friends were just strangers to us. However, there was something special about these strangers; you felt a connection, something in common, a special bond, and your friendship began. What if, as we pass all of the 'strangers' in our lives, if we looked at these strangers as if they could be a friend? What a different world it would be...
The beautiful you is not the color of your skin Or the texture of your hair. The beautiful you is not how tall or short you are The beautiful you is not rather you're skinny or overweight by society standards The beautiful you is not the degrees you have obtain Or the size of your bank accounts. The beautiful you, has nothing to do with where you're from, or religious beliefs Nor the car you drive or the house you live in. The beautiful you is not the price tag of what you wear The beautiful you has nothing do with how eloquent you speak The beautiful you is your kindness and compassion toward others The beautiful you is your tolerance and patience The beautiful you is your ability to love and forgive The beautiful you don't rush to judge what you don't understand The beautiful you is always seeking to evolve into its higher self That is the beautiful you and that is what the world needs The beautiful you is what defines our Humanity The Beautiful you, Be that Always!
There's a stranger in a car Driving down your street Acts like he knows who you are Slaps his hand on the empty seat and says "Are you gonna get in Or are you gonna stay out?" Just a stranger in a car Might be the one they told you about Well you never were one for cautiousness You open the door He gives you a tender kiss And you can't even hear them no more - All the voices of choices Now only one road remains And strangers in a car Two hearts Two souls Tonight Two lanes You don't know where you're goin' You don't know what you're doin' Hell it might be the highway to heaven And it might be the road to ruin But this is a song For strangers in a car Baby maybe that's all We really are Strangers in a car (Driving down your street) Just strangers in a car (Driving down your street) Strangers in a car
The people who run the circus kidnapped us from our parents. Since we got here, we have all been working in the circus. We can't see any of our mummies or kiss them OR cuddle up to them. said Adrian. His tears flowing in his big blue eyes that were the colour of the sky. We didn't want to listen to our parents when they told us: 'Never, Ever!' talk to strangers. We all disobeyed and spoke to strangers, and then the strangers stole us away from our parents.
She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.
Do you expect to learn anything at Shiz?' he asked. 'I have already learned not to speak to strangers.' 'Then I will introduce myself and we will be strangers no longer. I am Dillamond.' 'I am disinclined to know you.
Why did they all have to tread so very delicately around Celeste's money? It was like wealth was an embarrassing medical condition. It was the same with Celeste's beauty. Strangers gave Celeste the same furtive looks they gave to people with missing limbs, and if Madeline ever mentioned Celeste's looks, Celeste responded with something like shame. "Shhh, " she'd say, looking around fearfully in case someone overheard. Everyone wanted to be rich and beautiful, but the truly rich and beautiful had to pretend they were just the same as everyone else. Oh, it was a funny old world.
This is Denmark. We are Danes. We keep our distance. We do not pick a seat close to strangers if other seats are available. We do not talk to strangers in the trains.' William Wilson in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup
It's disappointing enough to know that the people we love will sometimes lie, but it is almost worse when we remember that strangers do this too, and this is why it is best not to admit our lies to strangers because it is not pleasant to learn that someone will lie even when there is little to nothing at stake.