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“He looked good, like sin in a suit.”
― Melissa Marr, Wicked Lovely

“A girl can still admire, can’t she? Even those who can’t afford to go in the store can still window-shop. Right? Knowing he wasn’t for me didn’t mean I couldn’t covet the merchandise.”
― Colleen Houck, Tiger's Curse

“The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.

'Why do you weep?' the goddesses asked.

'I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.

'Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,' they said, 'for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.'

'But... was Narcissus beautiful?' the lake asked.

'Who better than you to know that?' the goddesses asked in wonder. 'After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!'

The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:

'I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.'

'What a lovely story,' the alchemist thought.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

“His skin was a pretty colour, it made me jealous.
Jacob noticed my scrutiny.
What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Nothing. I just hadn't realised before. Did you know, you're sort of beautiful?"
Once the words slipped out, I worried that he might take my implusive observation the wrong way.
But Jacob rolled his eyes. "You hit your head pretty hard, didn't you?"
"I'm serious."
Well, then, thanks. Sort of."
I grinned. "You're sort of welcome.”
― Stephenie Meyer, New Moon

“turn him into stars and form a constellation in his image. His face will make the heavens so beautiful that the world will fall in love with the night and forget about the garish sun.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“The Devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape.”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“He's hot like, the kind of hot that makes you stop walking on the street and get hit by traffic.”
― Richelle Mead, Frostbite

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.”
― Stephanie Meyer

“It's like Brad Pitt for us. You might not like blond men with pretty features, but c'mon, it's Brad. You're not going to kick him out of bed for eating crackers.”
― Emily Giffin

“It should've been illegal for a man to walk around like that without some sort of permit.”
― Julie James, Something About You

“Nature had squandered an unreasonable quantity of male beauty on this undeserving creature.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“But I'm a bad priest, you see. I know--from experience--how much beauty Satan carried down with him when he fell. Nobody ever said the fallen angels were the ugly ones. Oh, no, they were just as quick and light and . . .”
― Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory

“The cuter the boy, the mushier your brain.”
― Jeanne Birdsall, The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy

“Sweet weeping baby Jesus he has a six-pack to beat all six-packs!”
― P.C. Cast, Warrior Rising

“Like all men who look this good, Frank has no interest in women.”
― Dennis Sharpe, Blood & Spirits

“It was one of God's jokes that such a dumb mind had been put in such an eloquent body.”
― Charlaine Harris, Dead Until Dark

“Oh, God. I'm in big trouble. Because I'm staring. I can't keep my eyes from ogling his chiseled triceps and biceps and every other "eps ' he has. The butterflies in my stomach have just multiplied tenfold as my wandering gaze meets his.”
― Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry

“He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.”
― Emme Rollins, Dear Rockstar

“Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum. Only now the enigma was a little less mysterious; I was a few clues closer to solving the riddle - but damn, that man would always be coated in yum.”
― Lisa Shearin, The Trouble with Demons

“There was an art to the male posterior. That's all there was to it.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Garden Spells

“Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum.”
― Lisa Shearin, The Trouble with Demons

“Of a slim-waisted deer-swift boy... My tongue remembers and is young.”
― Henry M. Christman, Gay Tales and Verses from the Arabian Nights

“Blake inspires instant, tender Blakelust in everyone he meets. All of his beauties are meant to be touched, and he likes to be touched.”
― John Valentine, Puppies

“He was gleamingly, smolderingly beautiful, like a pure medieval knight or a young King Arthur stepping off the pages of a painting.
Though it was always Lancelot who was shown with fair hair like Linden's, those long strands of dark gold and amber softening the hard planes of his warrior-strong face. Did Lancelot have a mouth like Linden's? Full and strong and sensual? Suggesting unspeakable delights if one could only unlock the man who possessed it?
Was it a mouth like this which undid Guinevere?”
― Fenna Edgewood, Once Upon a Midwinter's Kiss

“They were close enough that she could finally see him clearly.
Her eyes took in the sight of the Scot, standing tall in full Highland dress.
“Oh, delightful,� she muttered to herself. She was at her worst, with seaweed hair streaming water, while Wren had apparently decided to put on his Sunday best.
And didn’t he look absolutely magnificent!
If her heart had not already been doing troublesome things before, it was pounding in brazen excitement as she looked at him now.
This was her husband. Dear Lord. This was her husband.
He was always a very striking man. The cleft of his chin. His sturdy Roman nose. The softness of his dark, sooty lashes over those gorgeous blue eyes. His height, his breadth, his width. His girth? Briar almost giggled. Shush, she told herself.
But now? Gracious, he was unbearably handsome.
There was something about a man in a kilt. Especially the way Wren was wearing it. The dark green Renfrew plaid, shot through with its strands of red and white and gold, was already a lovely thing. Against Wren's form, contrasted against his dark hair, it was a god's finery. Every pleat, every fold fitting his leanly muscled physique.
She swallowed hard, then took another step.”
― Fenna Edgewood, Lady Briar Weds the Scot

“[Fashionable Beard]
I asked a friend growing a fashionable beard playfully: “Has your beard increased your fans?�
“You have no idea how much it has!� He responded.
“Do you wonder why people can’t see you clearly without it?� I asked.
“This beard reminds me every day that people simply refuse to see things as they are � bare and naked. They will notice and see things covered with any cover, except not as they are!� he added with a laughter.

[Original poem published in Arabic on January 16, 2023 at ahewar.org]”
― Louis Yako

“But now that I was here, standing less than two feet away from the most gorgeous man I had ever seen...
Frederick J. Fitzwilliam's appearance was all I could think about.
He looked like he was maybe in his mid-thirties, though he had the sort of long, pale, slightly angular face where it was hard to tell. And his voice wasn't the only thing with high production values. No, he also had this ridiculously thick, dark hair that fell rakishly across his forehead like he'd sprung fully formed out of a period drama where people with English accents kissed in the rain. Or like he was the hero from the last historical romance novel I'd read.
When he gave me a small, expectant smile, a dimple popped in his right cheek.”
― Jenna Levine, My Roommate Is a Vampire

“He smiled-a true smile, broad and exquisitive, his face radiating such matchless brilliance that I pitied the sun.”
― Penn Cole, Glow of the Everflame

“Let me see your eyes."
He lifted his face, and Evelinde clasped him by both cheeks, her gaze moving slowly over his eyes. They looked perfectly fine to her, however. More than fine. They were really quite beautiful; large and a deep brown so dark they appeared almost black. They were also fringed by long black lashes. The rest of his face was rugged, however, with sharp planes, an arrow-straight nose, and his lips---
Evelinde's eyes paused there, noting that his upper lip was thin, but the lower one was full and looked as if it would be soft to the touch. Before she could think better of it, curiosity made her shift one thumb to rub it over the pillowed surface, and she found it was indeed soft. Then Evelinde realized what she'd done. She could feel a sudden blush rise to cover her face and released him abruptly.
"There was a bit of dirt there," she lied, trying to step away at the same time, but his legs immediately closed on either side of her. Finding herself trapped between his knees, Evelinde felt her first moment of disquiet with the man. Not fear, exactly. For some reason she felt sure she had nothing to fear from this man, but the action did make her nervous.”
― Lynsay Sands, Devil of the Highlands

“He’s no one else’s picture of ideal male beauty, but he’s mine. Every misaligned bone and scar. Those kiss-bitten lips and glittering eyes.”
― Catrina Bell, Beastly & Bookish