Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
It is not beauty that endears, it’s love that makes us see beauty.[Не по хорошỳ мил, а по милỳ хорош.]
What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.
Beauty of whatever kind in its supreme development invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
Well, I am pretty. There’s no denying that. Almost all spiders are rather nice-looking. I’m not as flashy as some, but I’ll do.
There’s more beauty in the truth even if it is dreadful beauty.
The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
The beautiful word begets the beautiful deed.
Everyone wanted to be rich and beautiful, but the truly rich and beautiful had to pretend they were just the same as everyone else.
Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.
All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.[Все разнообразие, вся прелесть, вся красота жизни слагается из тени и света.]
