But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.
—Lord Henry: The Picture of Dorian Gray
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
—Helena: A Midsummer Night’s Dream
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light,
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
—Lord Byron: She Walks in Beauty
There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.
—Edgar Allan Poe
Beauty is not caused. It is.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.