Black Beauty Quotes

“There is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham - all a sham, James, and it won't stand when things come to be turned inside out and put down for what they”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“Melanin is an incomparable beauty. From the lightest to the darkest skin tone, Black women and Black girls are exquisite beauty in every shade. Yes, Black females have that special something that just can’t be ignored. We are Melanin Queens, beautifully created! Respect the complexion.”
― Stephanie Lahart

“he thought people did not value their animals half enough, nor make friends of them as they ought to do”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“And as to being quick, why, bless you! That is only a matter of habit; if you get into the habit of being quick, it is just as easy as being slow; easier, I should say; in fact, it don't agree with my health to be hulking about over a job twice as long as it need take. Bless you! I couldn't whistle if I crawled over my work as some folks do!”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“Willie always speaks to me when he can, and treats me as his special friend. My ladies have promised that I shall never be sold, and so I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple-trees.”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“I’m an Exquisite Black Queen! I like, love, and celebrate myself. I don’t fit society’s beauty standards, but I’m beautiful to me. I know my worth and I respect who I am as a woman. I’ve got beauty on the inside and that makes me empowered and powerful. I’m fearless and comfortable in my own skin. I’ve got flaws, but I’m still confident! This Queen right here is flawed yet phenomenal, valuable and unique!”
― Stephanie Lahart

“Black women were beautifully created at birth. We were blessed with melanin in our skin, which makes us Exquisitely Beautiful. From the lightest to the darkest skin tone, our melanin is Fiercely Poppin’ on Purpose. There’s no denying it, a Black woman’s beauty is elegant! We are Black Queens... Uniquely perfect, flaws and all!”
― Stephanie Lahart

“Of course I did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more to know what he meant”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“Well, I don't think she does have pleasure, it is just a bad habit”
― Anna Sewell, Black Beauty

“Roger left the cricket stumps and they went into the drawing room. Grandpapa, at the first suggestion of reading aloud, had disappeared, taking Patch with him. Grandmama had cleared away the tea. She found her spectacles and the book. It was Black Beauty. Grandmama kept no modern children's books, and this made common ground for the three of them. She read the terrible chapter where the stable lad lets Beauty get overheated and gives him a cold drink and does not put on his blanket. The story was suited to the day. Even Roger listened entranced. And Deborah, watching her grandmother's calm face and hearing her careful voice reading the sentences, thought how strange it was that Grandmama could turn herself into Beauty with such ease. She was a horse, suffering there with pneumonia in the stable, being saved by the wise coachman.

After the reading, cricket was anticlimax, but Deborah must keep her bargain. She kept thinking of Black Beauty writing the book. It showed how good the story was, Grandmama said, because no child had ever yet questioned the practical side of it, or posed the picture of a horse with a pen in its hoof.

"A modern horse would have a typewriter," thought Deborah, and she began to bowl to Roger, smiling to herself as she did so because of the twentieth-century Beauty clacking with both hoofs at a machine. ("The Pool")”
― Daphne du Maurier, Echoes from the Macabre: Selected Stories

“We have to teach, tell, and show Black girls that they are beautiful ... that there is no standard of beauty, only defining it. And we, Black girls, define beauty, too. Our hair, shade, shape, and features are beautiful. We set trends, and the world follows.”
― D.B. Mays, Black Lives, Lines, and Lyrics

“Black Mona Lisa

My umi's face is
the most beautiful in the world

Skin
like sleeping in on snow days
beneath thick blankets
black

Smile
like an eighty-degree
summer day in April
bright

Eyes
like long subway rides
looking out windows watching
nothing and everything go by in the dark
and letting my thoughts swim
deep”
― Ibi Zoboi, Punching the Air

“you are not racism.
you are not racism.
you are not racism.
you are not racism.
you are not racism.
your skin is not burden.
there is no mark against you.
your being is a holy beauty.
you.
are a holy beauty.
— ether”
― Nayyirah Waheed, Nejma

“Team Light Skin? No. Team Dark Skin? No. Team Brown Skin? No. TEAM MELANIN… Black Women and Black Girls are Exquisite Beauty in EVERY Shade.”
― Stephanie Lahart

“Respect the Complexion!”
― Stephanie Lahart

“The velvet darkness of his face”
― Camilla Gibb, Sweetness in the Belly

“Black Beauty is not acknowledged, affirmed, or celebrated unless it is showcased on a non-Black body. We are the blueprint they publicly denounce and secretly covet. They will always be caricatures of our authenticity. Who are they without us?”
― Bethanee Epifani J. Bryant

“Not like that," Na'imah instructs, shaking her head so hard that a shower of orange flower petals fall from her curls. Dragonflies orbit her head as she repositions a maji's hands around her cheetanaire's temples. "Feel the connection.”
― Tomi Adeyemi, Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“How can you not appreciate the beauty in your black skin?
Why do you misjudge its value?
Your skin neither cracks nor burns underneath the sun.
Your skin compliments its rays; and in its heat, you stun.
It is in your skin that the sun gets to reflect the strength of its rays.
Have you noticed how your black skin glows in the sunny days?

You ought to glorify the uniqueness of your black skin;
because black skin neither cracks nor wrinkles at the touch of the soil.
With a kiss of dust, your skin amplifies.
In fact, your skin is the original seed in the gods' eyes.
Even the day adorns your black skin as its beautiful lace;
while the night wears it as its face.
Maybe the air is mesmirised by your scent;
because your black skin represents nature in its essence.”
― Mitta Xinindlu

“In this new and luminous world, words like 'glamorie-glass' made sense, and daylight names were shields, designed to hold back the approach of night. The thought of this girl at night conjured up pictures of Van Gogh's Starry Night, and comets, and lightships, and the taste of her skin, torched to silver in the moonlight---
The girl looked amused. It occurred to him that she must be used to men being fools around her. 'I'm Vanessa.'
'Vanessa. Vanessa. I'm Tom,' he said. 'And where are you from, Vanessa?' It was an excuse to keep saying her name, which sounded to him like a cat's-paw of wind across the bright surface of a lake.”
― Joanne Harris, The Moonlight Market

“He wasn't wearing a shirt. Alert, alert! August Hodges was not wearing a shirt.
Her greedy eyes inhaled the wall of delicious flesh that defined his magnificent back. Muscles rippled in perfect synchronized motions as he lifted his arm. Scrumptious, delicious brown skin her lips and tongue longed to taste. Dampness instantly settled between her legs.
She must have made a whimper full of intense hunger, or maybe he just sensed he was no longer alone--- and she was going to go with the second, less embarrassing option--- because he turned. Holy fuck! The front was better than the back. He was a professional athlete who took his fitness seriously (even though he owned a cupcake shop franchise), so she shouldn't be shocked by how fucking good he looked. But it was one thing to be intellectually aware of something and another to be confronted with it up close and personal. A quick perusal registered an eight-pack. A trail of hair bisected his abs and led to... She jerked her eyes upward.
His eyebrows lifted. "Sloane?"
His tone was amused. No doubt her tongue was hanging out her mouth like a dog eagerly tracking the bowl of water its parent carried.
Dignity. She needed to find it, and soon. She lifted a hand as he reached for the teal Sugar Blitz polo on his desk. Let a mocking, flirty smile spread across her lips. "Please stop on my behalf."
He shot her a look. "I do so appreciate being treated like a piece of meat."
The finest, rarest cut of beef. Filet mignon.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“She was dark-complexioned, with full lips and high cheekbones set gracefully on a smooth face—reminiscent of the beautiful women he admired while driving through small rural towns in South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. Onyx had a curvaceous and full-bodied figure, exuding confidence. She was homegirl thick and cornbread-fed—just the kind of woman he was typically attracted to.”
― David L. Wadley