I am waylaid by beauty.

Beauty without grace is a rose without scent.

So fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.

Knowing this to be a worthless life to live, why do I keep living on? Because this life contains something called beauty7.

There is no exquisite beauty: without some strangeness in the proportion.

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.

Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

"She Walks in Beauty" ... the beauty of strange women.

From out of pain, beauty.

All truths, not merely ideas, but truthful faces, truthful pictures or songs, are highly beautiful.