Even in the centuries which appear to us to be the most monstrous and foolish, the immortal appetite for beauty has always found satisfaction.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Beauty is but the sensible image of the Infinite. Like truth and justice it lives within us; like virtue and the moral law it is a companion of the soul.
Beauty is the promise of happiness.
As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker.
Beauty itself is but the sensible image of the Infinite.
Beauty is a precious trace that eternity causes to appear to us and that it takes away from us. A manifestation of eternity, and a sign of death as well.
Something in the human psyche confuses beauty with the right to be loved. The briefest glance at human folly reveals that good looks and worthiness operate independently. Yet countless socializing forces, from Aunt Clara to the latest perfume ad, reinforce beliefs like 'If I were pretty enough, I would be loved.'
I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.
There is a role and function for beauty in our time.
Beauty is the oracle that speaks to us all.
Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.