Once upon a perfect night, unclouded and still, there came the face of a pale and beautiful lady. The tresses of her hair reached out to make the constellations, and the dewy vapours of her gown fell soft upon the land.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
There is a kind of beauty in imperfection.
A beautiful sunset that was mistaken for a dawn.
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
Beauty is everlasting And dust is for a time.
When virtue and modesty enlighten her charms, the lustre of a beautiful woman is brighter than the stars of heaven, and the influence of her power it is in vain to resist.
There is no real beauty without some slight imperfection.
She gave up beauty in her tender youth, gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; she covered up her eyes lest they should gaze on vanity, and chose the bitter truth.
Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.