How could anyone confuse truth with beauty; I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with
sunken eyes, bony or scorned, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While
beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power.
You're so beautiful, it hurts to look at you.
"The desert is beautiful," the little prince added. And that was true. I have always loved the
desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence
something throbs and gleams. "What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that
somewhere it hides a well. . . "
In every man's heart there is a secret neve that answers to the vibrations of beauty.
We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.
When you reach the heart of life you shall find beauty in all things, even in the eyes
that are blind to beauty.
If indeed you must be candid, be candid beautifully.
Beauty is a simple passion, but, oh my friends, in the end, you will dance the fire in
iron shoes.
The truly beautiful lie together.
Beauty is the lover's gift.
And there came upon me this thought, which doubtless has occurred to many another besides
myself why the scene should so influence me and yet make no impression on the men about me. Here
were men with far keener eyesight than my own, and around me were animals with eyesight keener
still. Their eyes looked on the same scene as mine did, and could distinguish each detail with
even greater accuracy. Yet while I lay entranced by its beauty, the keen-eyed shikaris, the
animals, and the soaring eagles above me, might have been stone blind for all the impression of
beauty it left upon them.
Clearly it is not the eye, but the soul that sees beauty. As the soul can respond so will
beauty be seen. But then comes the still further reflection what may there not be staring me
straight in the face which I am as blind to as the Kashmir stags are to the beauties amidst which
they spend their entire lives? The whole panorama may be vibrating with beauties man has not yet
the soul to see. Some already living, no doubt see beauties that we ordinary men have not the
souls to appreciate.
It is only a century ago that mountains were looked upon as hideous, yet now they are one of
our chiefest enjoyments. And in the long centuries to come may we not develop a soul for beauties
unthought of now? Undoubtedly we must. And often in reverie on the mountains I have tried to
conceive what further loveliness they may yet possess for men.
A beautiful woman is the hell of the soul, the purgatory of the purse, and the paradise of the eyes
I don't think vanity is a sin for the truly beautiful.
Why do we need to belong to someone else? Well, I know why, we all want to be beautiful, too.
